De wereld

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Niets lijkt veranderd. De straatsteentjes waarop mijn kleine klompjes ooit roffelden, liggen rustig te wachten op de volgende passant. Het kerkje uit de 15e eeuw, verscholen tussen de bomen, staat naar het weiland te kijken waar ik, vier jaar oud, ontdekte dat de wereld niet stilstond.
‘Ga maar es liggen’, zei mijn zusje, ‘en kijk naar de lucht.’
Misselijk werd ik.
En ik begreep dat het niet alleen maar rozengeur was wat me te wachten stond.

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