From a painting made by a Flemish painter,
that brought me to Madrid, it’s just a small step to history.
The way he handled brushes,
makes it easy to imagine, how life used to be.
To understand the deeper meanings of these images,
I went to a nearby monastery.
When there’s no one else around, the perfect silence,
a birthground of creativity.
A dream appeared to the painter,
when he walked into the garden, a formatation of (his) mind.
Taken by the hands to create an image of the future,
past was left behind.
This link to fifteenth century culture,
full of people on their way to daily reality.
Twentieth century expectations,
the last stop on the line is station ‘how can I be free’?
I step into the painting and be part of the scene.
I dance with the people and sit on a broken tree,
to drink a glass of beer, but it’s warm.
The house is full of animals and the air is full of sounds.
I see Maria who got pregnant and the rumour goes around,
that she did it with the priest, on the day of saint John.
The leader of the market-gang spent his money in a game.
A ‘loanshark-experience’, but he will get it back again.
“This coin is made of silver,” and this lie is made of gold.
A woman leans outside from a half open door.
They call her ‘the daily’, ‘cause her eyes don’t miss a detail,
from what’s happening on this stage floor, so I’ve been told.
(and) I’m the audience on the first row and I ask for more!
Listen to the man, but I don’t know if he tells the truth.
“If you ever drink this potion, you will never lose your youth.”
“But only your money,” as I recall.
And Guillaume, he lost his wallet, after he had lost his teeth.
Thrown out by his family, so he’s living on the street.
“A donation is free, but I tell your fortune for three…”
A body’s found of some one, who commited suicide.
It was there waiting to be found.
Convicted by society, (and) another rumour goes around…
The painter gave this figure the clothes I use to wear,
like a vision from a mirror:
“let (this) history grow and go back, forward in time.”
From a painting made by a Flemish painter, that brought me to Madrid,
it’s just a small step to history, and a small step back to reality…