Flashbacks 2024/2025, Reijer Staats

How did it come to this?

Not long after our first meeting in Noordwijk in July 2010 it was clear: "We will emigrate to Spain later!" And, yes! Now it's almost time… Johan and I aren't wasting any time...

The photo shows a mural in Granada of Federico García Lorca, with his mouth taped over with black tape and a defiant look. He has black hair and intense eyes. The mural is on a wall at the corner of a street in the Albaicín district.

Strength

Craving some city vibes and inspiration. And a Moroccan pastela from Panadería María. So, Granada... vamos!

Under the fresh spring sun, a new mural of Lorca caught my eye. Poet and playwright, born in Granada, who used his words to challenge social issues. His voice was silenced, but his message lives on.

On paper appeared a piece of writing:

His gaze filled with defiance

His free speech silenced

What do we see here: a parallel?

From then to now carried forward?

Moving from demonising

To its polarity

Walking a path of critical thinking

And tolerance

The photo shows me on a balcony with a coffee in hand and my face in the sun. On the bench in front of me sits a dog. I look out over the residential area in Almuñécar, with the sea in the background.

Woke

Returning from holiday with flu and an ear infection, I read about the Spanish Civil War in the novel "Land of Echoes", watch "Winter Full of Love" on TV… and Oh! What's going on in the world?

I wrote something rhyming about it:

A head full of snot, gaze turned inward

Feverishly freed

From all that self-righteous nonsense

And the bitter human struggle

I yawn - a pop! - breaks everything open

Sun adds colour, warms me too

On the beach, two boys hand in hand

Lovely, I'm woke again

The photo shows a typical Andalusian double door in a soft blue-grey colour, with a subtle door handle. Above the door is the number 23 in Arabic script, and next to the door hangs a slate plaque with the name

I take it at my own pace

Healing. For me, that's the interplay between head, heart and gut, where behind a gate emotions lie that haven't yet been felt. If you gently open the gate and allow the emotions to be, space is created for gentleness.

After a conversation with a friend about the loss of my mother, I wrote this poem:

Tense, I look down

It's stuck, and how!

A stone of old emotions

Curious, I walk towards it

A gate, I open it

Something wants through, with force

I close it quickly, but now I know:

One day what's hard will be soft

A full moon rises as the sun sets simultaneously. Someone takes a photo from a high lifeguard chair, overlooking the sea and coastal hills during the golden hour.

It's about the journey, not the destination

In our first year of emigration, I wrote about "the warmest welcoming smile..." We still occasionally keep in touch by WhatsApp. "You're in my heart," I read. And staring at the sunset, this poem emerged:

How are you?

I say I think I'm well

I know I'm missing something

Not yet sure where to look

You will definitely find it!

The words, they embrace me

Lovingly walking my path

All is well! I feel free

Kiss from your sister

Every morning I pause in the hallway at this photo of Meris, and this morning a little poem formed in my head.

Here it is:

Sometimes you appear on my shoulder

And whisper in my ear

I'm just having breakfast

"Yum brothers, lovely!"

But after just a short while sitting together

I know you must go on

You cast one last glance back

And I catch your whispered greeting

Spanish chats

Reijer Staats & Johan Pastoor | +31(0)6 - 28 27 1492 | contact@villa-andalusia.com | www.onthaasten.es