Well, as I don't do anything which is spicy or, you know, well, typical for teenagers (yes, I work a lot for university, apart from writing this lovely blog to help me practise my writing skills), I'm gonna give you a comment about two facts that "rocked my world" not so far away in time.
When you see this picture, you wonder if I didn't turn mad. Not yet. Because this is a wooden leg, or a prosthesis, I should say. My flatmates found it as they were walking back to the Carmel (this is the name of the residence belonging to the University of Namur where there are students' rooms; precisely where I live most of the time now); they found it in a rubbish tin ! Why would the owner have thrown it away? My mum's hypothesis is that the owner passed away and that his family decided not to bury the prosthesis with the corpse… The most wicked element in the whole story is that my friends took it back! Hence the photo and this message.
During the Easter break, in which I was supposed to work instead of sleeping, my parents, my brother and I went to the seaside — that means 2,5 hours of car, then finding a parking lot, then walking 2 km towards the center of the city, then eating chicken at the Koekoek, then walking on the zeedijk, then getting back to the car, then going to Westende, then leaving the car somewhere, then walking on the zeedijk. As we were walking, I suddenly spotted this excavator and I fiercely decided to get into it. What the hell…??, said my mum. The reason why I did it is quite simple: the excavator's door was open, and I really thought we were on Sunday, while we were on a Tuesday… Fortunately, no angry worker came to shout at me that it was forbidden, etc. (If it had happened, I would have pretended that I was 6 of mental age.) Fortunately too, my brother took pictures of it…
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