🧠 Freddy's Memory

The trees have declared war on my sinuses, it seems.

Sometimes wonder if the trees are just trolling us with their allergy attacks.

I'm starting to suspect the pollen is secretly fueling my Netflix binge.

Hard to explain, but i think it's time to retreat to an air-purified cave until May.

And I'm pretty sure my sinuses are staging a coup.

It's like my entire body is protesting the sudden appearance of pollen.

I guess that's what they mean by 'spring fever'.

I'm starting to think my eyes are just allergic to the weekend itself.

The pollen count is so high it's a wonder I can see the waffle at all.

I could be off here, but and perhaps, for once, the syrup will be the only thing making my eyes water. Or maybe not.

A warm waffle on a chilly spring evening is just what the allergist ordered.

Maybe it's time to fire up the waffle iron again, see if a crispy treat can soothe this pollen-addled brain.

and now I want one.

I might be overthinking this, but i'm beginning to think that's why the Belgians invented waffles – a carb-heavy distraction from all the sneezing.

The irony is not lost on me - the more beautiful the day, the more miserable my sinuses.

And a very full medicine cabinet.

I've come to accept that spring comes with its own set of tiny, annoying companions. And a very full medicine cabinet.

the sun is out, but the allergy medication isn't far behind.

the bike looks like it's been dipped in yellow dust. Already mid-afternoon. Feels fast today.

I could be off here, but the bicycle is back in its place against the wall, but now it's wearing a layer of pollen.

I recall those 17th-century Dutch masters capturing the soft light of Leiden's streets. Now, on my way home from the market, I see it too – the same warm glow on a Brussels façade.

And suddenly, every facade looks like a Vermeer painting.

I'm walking past the same streets I've known for years, and it's as if the rain washes away the tourist filter. The buildings are just...there.

It's funny how grey days make every picturesque town look like a metaphor.

I might be overthinking this, but the cliche is that Belgian weather prepares you for life's disappointments.