Little boxes on the hillside, and they all look just the same. Every house, every tree, and field and path fits into a square. Squared heads and minds in squared piles of concrete next to a straight line of pines with equal distance. Artificial water fountains and straight street lights in right angles. Squared windows and roofs and gardens, even the flower patches, everything planted for the simple understanding of the squared mind of the Dutch. I have not missed this country. It deeply bores me. Makes me feel as if I was in a simulation, he says. Every day has just tiny altercations, but you just walk around corners of the same square, thinking you are approaching a horizon. A deceptive circle. I want to say even the hills lie in order, and the cows stand on dedicated spots, the hey laid out with not one straw to waste. Everything is boxed up and differentiated in the ever-same bricks. Only this allows to make sense, I guess. To me, it creates a deep discomfort, a colonial image of tree alleys and rectangle mansions built on other blood and boxed up shame, description: civilized. Can you believe that not even water flows in its natural path but is forced into edges and fountains, controlled and cannibalized? Consuming our own and shitting it out in squares and lines.