11/04/2005

I was waiting. I didn’t really know for what. Or whom. Naturally for the sun to start shining again, but that wasn’t just it. I played music in the meantime. Only jazz trio’s. The Bad Plus, Bobo Stenson Trio, Peter Erskine Trio, van Veenendaal/Kneer/Sun. I like this traditional setting. Drums, double bass, piano. A clear choice. Like red, yellow and blue. You can make whatever coulour you want out of it.
Every early morning I wake up at 5.30. I listen untill I get tired of the birds welcoming the day. I fall back asleep again and have disturbing dreams. In my dreams I am waiting but I don’t really know for what. Or whom. I open doors to see what is behind them, I walk through hallways and hear birds whistling. The cellar is where the attic should be. In the dark small birds are being eaten by white cats.
The doorbell rings. I open the door. A friendly face. Familiar words. But I don’t understand their meaning. She doesn’t speak any English or German. She walks away, still smiling. I wonder what she was looking for. When I go back into the livingroom she walks past my windows. Her hair is blue.
Sometimes my grandmother’s hair turned blue too. Too much of the colouring stuff to keep her hair nicely gray. She would panic, stay in for days. She didn’t like hats.
The doorbell rings again. I open the door. It is a man wearing a hat. I can’t see his hair. His coat is blue though. He takes of his hat. There is no hair left. His eyebrows are very black. His hair must have been too. He clears his throat and speaks some words in Slovak. As I answer in German the sun starts to shine and one of the four black neighbourhood cats runs by with a mouse between his teeth. The man shakes his head. Puts on his hat and walks the same way the cat went.
In the big chestnuttree in the courtyard a bird is playing a trumpet. I continue waiting.