Blog posts archived in ’2014-3’

The wind and I

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 25 march 2014


Photo: ‘Cliff’ by Ali Taylor on Sxc.hu

The wind and I
We go back a long way


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As you think so shall you become

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on monday 17 march 2014

Photo of myself at three years of age in Chile

Surely you’re familiar with those discussions on men and women. Those conversations in which the behaviour and characteristics of men and women are stereotyped. I don’t know what they mean to you but in my case, my hairs stand on end. Because those taking the lead in such conversations, will unknowingly define how others should behave as men or women, whatever the case may be. And before you know it people actually believe this and it becomes one of their restrictive beliefs.


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Screw us and

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 11 march 2014


Have you ever wondered why governments bail out the big banks and companies when the economy’s going through a rough patch...and let the small ones go under? And why more and more people all over the world are living in poverty?


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Writing faultlessly is for softies

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 11 march 2014


It happened the other day. My blood went to my head, my heart went like a galloping racehorse and sweat came from every pore. Did I really see that? Yeah Wim, I said to myself with my eyes glued to the screen, you did. There it was in a blog in letters that seemed to get bigger and bigger: ‘You’re writing’ instead of ‘Your writing’.


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No coffee no business

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 11 march 2014


With my hands clamped around a cup of cappuccino, I listen carefully to Marian Osinga sitting opposite me in her espresso bar and shop PS! That is until, from the corner of my eye I see co-owner Marcel Scholtalbers carefully placing freshly ground coffee beans into the coffee machine. With a cheerful sputter the handmade Italian La Marzocco cheerfully spreads an intense and captivating scent throughout the espresso bar. Meanwhile I resist the urge to close my eyes shamelessly while the warmth of the cup in my hands slowly makes its way to my heart. In the sensation the words pass me by and my thoughts return to another heart-warming moment. Unaware of the contented smile on my face I muse on a scene in the south of France.


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