Koningsdag
koningsdag
Everything is orange.
The sky-and-ochre streamers on the ground tangle in the spokes of our bikes, but we do not care — we are too happy to care. We have learned little of the local language, but we greet everybody in the few words we know. Friend, foe or stranger — each person is treated to a badly-pronounced gelukkige koningsdag as we cycle past.
We have painted our arms with acrylic paint — orange as the sun in the sky — as carefully as we can. It is already beginning to flake off, but we do not care — we are too happy to care.
And yes, everything is orange.
The sky-and-ochre streamers on the ground tangle in the spokes of our bikes, but we do not care — we are too happy to care. We have learned little of the local language, but we greet everybody in the few words we know. Friend, foe or stranger — each person is treated to a badly-pronounced gelukkige koningsdag as we cycle past.
We have painted our arms with acrylic paint — orange as the sun in the sky — as carefully as we can. It is already beginning to flake off, but we do not care — we are too happy to care.
And yes, everything is orange.