if I could explain.

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art -

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors -
No - yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever - or else swoon to death

- John Keats

My new bike. My new life. My new comings and goings through the cold canals, through the wonders and beauties of this city, through the seagulls and their silent singing. The air hitting my face, the constant afternoons by myself, reading, writing, listening. The way I look into the sky and see everything, and nothing at the same time.

 My new smile.

Winter at Amsterdam, The Netherlands