An old Chinese proverb says, “When the wind of change blows, some build walls, while others build windmills.”
It is a metaphor for my thoughts and a visual expression of the countless trips I made in the last months. I went back and fort between Amsterdam and Leeuwarden, the city my mom and dad live(d). Every time I crossed the water, the IJsselmeer, between the 2 outer edges of land, over the Afsluitdijk, I noticed the windmills that have recently been built in these waters.
I have seen the water and mills in many different colours and states. The countless hues of blue and gray, the white foamy waves and rippling water. This particularly video shows the fading between the water and the sky, almost blending together in one colour with a silent and still in between. Another metaphor for the ending life of my mom. The last days she mentioned that she faded away, that she didn't notice as much around her anymore. And also that she somehow cared less. She was dulled, as she called it. Her thoughts must have gone deep in her self, slowly sleeping more than being awake, slowly transitioning from the 'here and now' to the 'there and always'.
My mom went into her always sleep on January 31st and left this world on February 3rd.
And then the wind of change blows. Storm in my head, everything swirls around and almost at the same time the sand and mud from the muggy water slowly seeps down to the ground, and things become clear, perfectly clear.