I was born in the judicial capital of the world, a small coastal city in the Southern Province of Holland.
Around the corner from where I was born in 1976 and lived until 1998 Spinoza wrote, rebelled and died, in what were the last days of the Dutch Golden Age.
From my seat on the back of my mum’s peddle bike I saw the legalising of prostitution and the opening of the methadone clinic.
The infamous condoning attitude, deeply rooted in cultural Dutch Calvinism, time and again played out in my sandbox.
To those who read the words for what they mean, or live life along side its application, the demise of what was once the envy of the world, was always self-evident.