Ville

story

I have lived in the Netherlands for two years now. I am ashamed to admit that I still don't know how to say anything more than my name. I even probably pronounce it wrong. “My name is” part I mean. Of course I know how to say my own name you bird-brain. On an another thought, I am the bird-brain, like the one in the picture.

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Personally, my alarms went full nuclear when I heard the borders in Finland would be closing and airplanes are going to stop flying. It was at this moment, when I realized that the coronavirus is deadly serious. (A zoom into a grey, serious face of me.)

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A little crimson-red couch has space for three people to sit on. One could also sleep on it. The faded and beaten-up leather texture, and the slanted and overly soft cushion reflected its many years of use. It was just an old and ordinary couch, but with an extraordinary story. This is the story of the couch and me.

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