I am writing this story about a homeless man and his friendship with a young boy. Well, in fact, 'writing' is overstating things. I have begun writing it, my friend, the artist Gurli Feilberg (www.feilberg.nl)
has already made a beautiful drawing about it, but the story has been on the shelf for quite some time now, due to my busy professional and private lives.
Funny thing is that the main character of this story, the homeless man, keeps popping up. In real life, that is. This is hardly surprising, as I got the idea from real life in the first place.
It nonetheless feels strange, every time I see somebody who reminds me of my main character, Anton. A few days ago I was walking past Florenzia (a place in the Hague, where you can get great ice-cream, not that you'd care, but still...) and I saw a bike parked outside, with large plastic bags hanging from the bike handles. Anton's bike. Anton's belongings.
Well, even though I am finding it difficult to carve in time for writing, my characters find time to remind me they are still there.
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