I Swear to God, I do not know what happened.
I lived in Belgium for 4 years now, I start to understand it, it starts to fit me as a cloth, an habit, a routine.
I know Brussels, fat lady that stays up late and, in the few hours of sleep, grabbed through 2 and 6, she snores, as if it was impossible to make her shut up.
I know his People, Up early- hardworking day by day.
People that have in mind only the first beer they will have in the evening, and the smile of the one they love, flashing through the bubbles that float up inside the glass.
I know his food, biomass that has decided all alone that taste is never enough, sauce never too spiced, serving never too rich and cholesterol irrelevant.
And over all I know his surreal weather were it snows in August and you have 15 minutes at 20 Celsius on the 25th of December, quickly replaced by a monsoon shower that would make my Indian colleagues proud.
I know the little nervous tics of that ever changing weather.
The weather of this land were you bring the umbrella to be sure it will not rain and you never open it anyway because, if you opened it each time it rained, God would have made you with it.
And I know the eternal single season that starts and ends the first January of each year in which it rains, snows, there is sun, it hails, it is windy, it is too hot, chilly cold and humid at the same moment but in different parts of the town.
Nonetheless, if I really knew all of this, if I really could always foresee what will happen, I would probably not live in this little corner of Europe that has decided to keep me and every day finds a way to surprise me and to offer me a gift.
Because Belgium likes you wondering and he does it always with what you expect the least like a sweet, gentle, sudden spring.
I do not know why or how he does that , but one thing I do know for sure.
We are locked inside the house working since October and outside, suddenly, there is sun.
So please, leave everything and follow me.
I want to show you something...