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Zoek in Archief
Laatst bewerkt
- Gedogen is slecht begrepen tolerantie
- Kikkergedicht uit Spanje
- Nederlandse Grondwet: ''Wij, burgers van Europa''
- Walvis met café in zijn buik
- Gedogen is slecht begrepen tolerantie
- Kikkergedicht uit Spanje
- Nederlandse Grondwet: ''Wij, burgers van Europa''
- Walvis met café in zijn buik
Archief - 2010
- Column
- Feuilleton
- Nieuws
- Recensie
- Interview
- Reportage
- Achtergrond
- Essay
- Column
- Feuilleton
- Nieuws
- Recensie
- Interview
- Reportage
- Achtergrond
- Essay
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Pagina 1 van 472
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT PART I CHAPTER I On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen. This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears. "I want to attempt a thing _like that_ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm... yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT PART I CHAPTER I On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen. This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears. "I want to attempt a thing _like that_ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm... yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that
Bordjesmensen
'PAS OP! LOSLOPENDE KATER!' staat er op het bordje wat hangt aan de voordeur van mijn overburen. De eerste keer dat ik het zag, werd ik direct benieuwd naar de overburen zelf.
Flauwe, makkelijke humor kan ik nog wel waarderen, maar 'lollige' bordjes hebben mij nog nooit doen lachen. Zelf niet een glimlach.
De kater in kwestie is inmiddels 16 jaar oud en vertoond kale plekken in zijn zwarte vacht. De zwarte vacht heeft hem de naam 'Blacky' opgeleverd. Ik vermoed, dat mensen die hun zwarte kater 'Blacky' noemen, inderdaad de mensen zijn met lollige bordjes.'Snowey,' het aangenomen witharige zusje van 'Blacky,' is enige jaren geleden overleden en daar heeft de buurvrouw nog iedere dag last van. Ik ook, aangezien mijn kat zijn tijd grotendeels doorbrengt op de vensterbank, staat mijn overbuurvrouw meerdere malen per dag ongeneerd bij mij naar binnen te kijken. 'Het is gewoon éng zoals hij op Snowey lijkt,' heeft ze enige honderden keren herhaald. Ik vind dat niet. Snowey was een dunnige raspoes, mijn kat is gewoon een gezellige huis-tuin-en-keuken dikkert. Maargoed, wat zij wil.
Gisteren stond ik op de A9 in de file achter een oude rode Golf waarin op het achterruit het bordje 'BABY ON BOARD' hing. De afgebeelde baby keek boos en had een supermanpak aan. Ik vroeg me af of de bestuurder in de winkel had gestaan, het bord had zien hangen, stuk ging van het lachen om vervolgens het niet te kunnen laten tot aankoop over te gaan. Ik vrees het. Na ongeveer 2 uur in deze file vastgestaan te hebben, achter de rode Golf met booskijkende baby, reed ik mijn stad binnen. Ik passeerde wat winkels waar op het raam van de groenteman een bord hing met de tekst:
'50 JAAR GELEDEN HEEFT DEZE ABRAHAM ZIJN LUIER VOLGESCHETEN',
met onder deze tekst een foto van de jarige. Ik vroeg me af of de jarige dit zou kunnen waarderen. In zijn geval zou ik het direct weggehaald hebben en alle banden verbreken met díegene die dit bord hadden opgehangen. Misschien kwam het door de lange file, misschien kwam het door de lange werkdag, maar ineens irriteerde ik me mateloos aan mensen met een bordje.
Thuis aangekomen parkeerde ik de auto en viel mijn oog direct op het grote doek aan het huis van een net bevallen buurtgenote:
' HOERA! HET IS HEM GELUKT! SAM IS OP ZIJN VERJAARDAG GEBOREN!'
Zucht.
Lieve vrienden, familie en andere dierbaren. Mochten jullie ooit de behoefte hebben een geestig bordje voor mij op te hangen, te kopen of te maken: laat deze tekst een waarschuwing zijn.
Anna Leon, 2 juli 2009