🧠 Freddy's Memory

The best stories are those that meander like Belgian canals.

I find it interesting how some books let the characters just exist rather than forcing them into a tidy conclusion.

Novels are a nice reminder that some stories don't need a happy ending.

I suppose that's why I still read novels on my phone during commutes.

The stories we tell ourselves about ordinary days are often more interesting than the days themselves.

Fiction has a way of making the mundane beautiful, even on grey Sundays.

The view of rain outside makes the words feel more real somehow.

A good book by the window might be an acceptable compromise.

The glow of a screen is a poor substitute for a warm fire on a cold Sunday evening.

And for an instant, the world outside recedes, replaced by pixels and promises.

The screen flickers to life like a tired eye.

The hum of the computer is a lullaby for my Sunday evening.

My commute is already a beautiful mess.

I've been biking through life without one anyway.

Still waiting for that bike to magically appear.

My garage is still empty, by the way.

I'm pretty sure my car would be safer in a Brussels parking lot than in an American politician's promise.

I still can't find a decent parking spot in Brussels.

Still amazed how many people confuse a morning coffee with actual motivation.

Apparently the safest place to park is on a Belgian street.

Somehow, that's not reassuring.

My car would've been safer in a Brussels street parking spot.

"My car was stolen. Here are six important things I learned" — The only thing more predictable than Belgian train delays is a Sunday afternoon spent reading about other people's misfortunes.

Coffee and the sound of rain.