Crow
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There’s a man in my neighbourhood who is trying to befriend the crows. At least, I assume that is what he is doing.
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There’s a man in my neighbourhood who is trying to befriend the crows. At least, I assume that is what he is doing.
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I can’t remember exactly when hollyhocks began to bloom across Amsterdam. It feels as if, one summer, they were suddenly just there, reaching up through the paving stones and covering gable ends with wild abandon.
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And it’s only art that can take you by the hand and show you the way towards joy, towards life. Then up the mountainside, to wash your eyelids in the rain.
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Winter is something to endure. Or so I thought. But on a warm December day in Amsterdam I find myself dreaming of snow and ice.
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So, December seems to be the month for compiling ‘Best Of’ lists. It’s not something I usually do because firstly, I’m not that organised and secondly, because I tend to be very bad at recalling things. However, 2015 seems to have been a particularly good year for online short stories – the sort of stories