AC | winter room for nostalgia

all images (except last one) from my former high school i recently revisited
she was fifteen and crushingly in love. amidst the johnny rottens of the era she found peace in a boy three years her senior, wearing stiff pressed white shirts only, adorned with a silver safety pin, under a black shiny longcoat, his dark bangs a stubborn blaze. 

all images (except last one) from my former high school i recently revisited
soft punk if ever, alongside the even sweeter you're the one that i want. dreamy lunchtimes, shared in a tiny canteen off the main hall, where forks in potatoes and one veg rattled on worn stoneware. and them four, or five punks huddled up together over sarnies

all images (except last one) from my former high school i recently revisited
and her. watching their every move, learning fast. all through never ending doses of rotten biology, haughty physics, lamentable latin verse and sweat stinking PE potions, her bets were laying in one camp only : lunchtime break. him. and her. 

all images (except last one) from my former high school i recently revisited
for him she would insult that geology bastard, who courted his dreary self smart. for him she would defy home teacher's prying tongue as she choked on hebban olla vogala, while prévert for french helped her along the way of her wild, if unsophisticated fantasies. 

all images (except last one) from my former high school i recently revisited
however. nostalgia can only bring back so much, never that person nor a given situation. stefanie's winter rooms remind me of keepsake days. and my memory wandered to those few weekends i held, a long, long time ago, called OPEN HOUSE. no more, for now. 

i'll bring the cookies! ☺
thank you though, stefanie, for this recollection that could only stem from your gentle probing. i so wish i was living closer by so i could step right into your saintly world and bring me home an angel. and we could sip liquorice tea, for good (wintertime) measure. ♥ 


  1. First I read your words
    (and I listen your voice),
    dear Nadinetje,
    then I scroll up and watch your photos
    and my own punk phase come alive
    These revolt... when I see school rooms...
    (then I turned it into fashion ala Vivienne Westwood
    lots of prints and clasp pins
    and a spiked dog collar)
    De wilde zwanen
    Your photos are so
    tidy (I mean balanced)
    and a touch nostalgically
    I love it!

    There is a group on FB from the neighbourhood
    where I raised up.It was a 'bad' part of the town,
    close to the harbour.
    Rough, but, full of sympathy and heart!
    And so it is today.

    Your cookies! Dear! I wish I could have one or two
    three... hey, I'll bring some dried roses for the tea!
    I'm on my way!

    Love, Ariane.Rose

  2. A wonderful nostalgic story. Your cookies: yummie! - eric

  3. nostalgia and cookies.. a nice combination.

  4. Please bring your baked goods, when we will meet the next time. They look to die for. And for that punk boy, I remember my punk boy (did everybody from our generation had a punk love?)so well. I never have been a punk either, but he was so smart and exciting. Today he works in a bank and has never left his village. Well... Those memories are precious still. Apart from that, can I please move into your old school?!! What a place... xo A.

  5. images support your story of memories offering it to us a bit like a dream.
    your cookies look beautiful.

  6. Memories, memories. Oh yes, I was in my old School some weeks before. Many questions runned around my head. Who am I now, who was I than? What is the life between yesterday and today.
    Thank you. Lucia

  7. well, I have to thank you! I don´t know but your story and pictures bring tears into my eyes. Would be so nice you could come and bring some of those cookies;-)
    x Stefanie