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Issue #030 Published: 13-05-2020 // Written by: M. Grootveld, S. Olma
Over corona, donuts en de vraag wat er van het virus te leren valt
1. Stunde Null Als je op Koningsdag om tien uur ’s ochtends door de binnenstad van Amsterdam fietste, was het onwezenlijk stil. Op een gegeven moment kon je zelfs het gevoel krijgen dat dit ongeveer het beeld moest zijn van een stad waar een neutronenbom was ontploft. De neutronenbom was eind jaren zeventig het schrikbeeld van de No Future-generatie: een bom die de meeste gebouwen en andere infrastructuur intact liet, maar wel alle levende wezens doodde; die bom is gelukkig nooit echt in productie genomen. Het corona-virus is de neutronenbom van deze tijd. Niet iedereen gaat er dood aan, maar het effect is oppervlakkig gezien bijna hetzelfde: geen mensen meer op straat, alle leven lijkt verdwenen. Of toch niet helemaal, want er zijn wel vogels, zelfs meer dan normaal. En die hebben zo te zien en te horen de tijd van hun leven. Het milieu heeft duidelijk baat bij deze crisis. Om heel eerlijk te zijn heeft het ook wel wat, die rust en die stilte. En klaarblijkelijk vinden meer mensen dat, want op veel fora hoor je nu mensen zeggen dat het ná corona allemaal wel wat minder mag: minder drukte, minder toeristen in de stad, minder consumptie en minder vliegen. De Duitse schrijver en filmmaker Alexander Kluge zei in een recent commentaar op de coronacrisis dat we nu in een ‘Stunde Null’-moment verkeren, dat in zekere zin vergelijkbaar is met 1945. Ook de ‘oorlog tegen een onzichtbare vijand’ biedt de kans op een nieuw begin. Uiteraard is er aan het einde van de gezondheidsnoodtoestand geen sprake van een naoorlogse tabula rasa, maar de optie om terug te gaan naar business as usual bestaat simpelweg ook nu niet. Volgens Kluge confronteert het virus ons met een aantal existentiële vragen: ‘Wat is werkelijk? Wat is onze werkelijkheid? Welke werkelijkheid moet verdedigd worden en waar moeten wij de werkelijkheid veranderen?’ We kunnen de situatie waarin we op dit moment vastzitten begrijpen als een les van levensbelang, een moment van essentiële heroriëntatie, een reset. Als we dit namelijk niet doen, kunnen we de uitkomst van deze crisis al voorspellen: grote ‘systeemrelevante’ bedrijven gaan met gigantische bedragen gered worden. En wat gaat de failliete staat daarna doen? Precies: nóg meer bezuinigen op uitkeringen, onderwijs, gezondheidszorg, cultuur en andere voorzieningen. Het pijnlijkst wordt het weer voor de zwaksten in de samenleving, waardoor frustratie en wantrouwen toenemen, wat weer koren op de molen van de rechtsnationale partijen is. Als je bij de volgende pandemie graag een dergelijke partij aan het roer zou willen zien staan, moet je misschien even kijken wat er in Brazilië en de VS op dit moment aan de hand is… 2. De verleiding van de donut Geen back to business as usual dus! Voor de marketingafdeling van de gemeente Amsterdam lijkt dit prima uit te komen, want zij hebben allang het concept voor verandering in de la liggen, zodat het er nu als antwoord op de crisis uit getrokken kan worden: Amsterdam moet Donutstad worden! Geen Donutstad in de zin van nóg meer donutshops, maar een Donutstad op basis van de ideeën van de Britse econome Kate Raworth, zoals zij die uiteengezet heeft in haar boek Donuteconomie. Kort samengevat komen die ideeën erop neer dat de economie er voortaan voor moet zorgen dat niemand meer buiten de boot valt, en dat we met z’n allen de grenzen van de draagkracht van de aarde moeten respecteren. Dat klinkt heel mooi, maar wat houdt dat in de praktijk in? Voor Amsterdam betekent dit volgens wethouder Marieke van Doorninck bijvoorbeeld dat we tal van zaken in de stad moeten gaan ‘verduurzamen’ en ‘vergroenen,’ bijvoorbeeld de energievoorziening. De kolencentrale aan de Hemweg is inmiddels gesloten, en de stad werkt hard aan een plan voor energieopwekking met behulp van zeventien nieuwe windmolens en zonnecellen op de daken van zoveel mogelijk Amsterdamse huizen. Er zijn woonwijken aangewezen die straks als eerste ‘van het gas af moeten,’ en andere energiebronnen zullen moeten gaan benutten voor de verwarming van de huizen en voor het koken. Het probleem is alleen dat dit beleid voor een deel wordt uitgevoerd in samenwerking met de Zweedse energiegigant Vattenfall. Vattenfall heeft echter ook plannen voor een biomassacentrale in Diemen, en biomassa is helemaal niet zo ecologisch verantwoord als de benaming doet vermoeden. Biomassa bestaat uit allerlei organisch materialen, zoals hout, gft-afval, maar ook plantaardige olie, mest en speciaal hiervoor geteelde gewassen, die in de ovens van de centrale worden verstookt. Bij dit proces komen meer broeikasgassen vrij dan bij de verbranding van steenkool. De Van der Pek-buurt in Amsterdam-Noord is aangewezen als proefwijk voor de energietransitie. Maar dit betekent dat de huishoudens in de wijk worden aangesloten op de stadsverwarming, en dat is bij veel mensen in de buurt in het verkeerde keelgat geschoten. Want de warmte die door de stadsverwarmingsbuizen stroomt is afkomstig van de … vuilverbranding! En het is niet gegarandeerd dat zij straks niet meer kwijt zullen zijn aan verwarmingskosten. 3. Economie zonder politiek? Maar goed, je zou kunnen zeggen: dit zijn startproblemen, als die donut eenmaal goed draait lost dit zich allemaal vanzelf wel op. Helaas niet, zeggen UvA-planoloog Federico Savini en journalist Victor de Kok in Het Parool van 25 april jl. Hoewel de donuteconomie een schitterend alternatief economisch model voorstelt – overigens is de donut niet het enige gebak in de winkel van de zogenoemde heterodoxe economen, maar dat is een ander verhaal – ontbreekt het in het model aan enkele ideeën over de vraag hoe het politiek door te zetten is. Een van de politieke vragen die Savini en de Kok terecht stellen is: wie gaat de transitie naar een donuteconomie eigenlijk betalen? Dat is een uitstekende vraag, waarop de meer politiek denkende Franse econoom Thomas Piketty in zijn nieuwe boek Kapitaal en Ideologie een simpel antwoord heeft gegeven: laat grote bedrijven eindelijk belasting betalen en verhoog de kosten voor de superrijken. Echter, als je als gemeente Amsterdam onderdeel van het belastingparadijs Nederland bent en je laat adviseren door planologen wiens natte droom de Zuidas als centrum van de metropoolregio is, dan is dit niet echt een optie voor jou. Voor het geval iemand mocht denken dat een van de op de Zuidas of elders gevestigde belastingontduikers door de opening van de donut kijkend het fiscale licht gaat zien en ineens belasting gaat betalen om de circulaire economie te financieren, hebben wij slecht nieuws: Booking.com heeft onlangs bij het UWV steun uit het noodfonds aangevraagd om de salarissen van het personeel te kunnen betalen, hoewel het bedrijf tussen 2010 en 2018 bijna 1,8 miljard euro aan belasting heeft mogen ‘besparen.’ En hier komt de aap uit de mouw, want natuurlijk is een radicale kanteling van de economische orde een uitdaging die niet effectief opgepakt kan worden door middel van het geritualiseerde toejuichen van een hip economisch model in Pakhuis de Zwijger. Nee, hiervoor is politieke daadkracht nodig die een eind wil maken aan de neoliberale extractie-economie, en dit betekent voor Nederland met name ook het afbreken van schuilplaatsen voor belastingontduikers. 4. De les van het virus Uiteraard is het veelbelovend om te zien dat er uit de wetenschap ideeën voor een duurzamere samenleving komen. We juichen dit van ganser harte toe. Alleen is het geen toeval dat het a-politieke model van de donuteconomie uit de hoek van het Amsterdam Economic Board aan wethouder Van Doorninck wordt aangedragen. Voor dit door en door neoliberale adviesorgaan van de gemeente (dat onlangs tegen de uitdrukkelijke wil van het Groen Linkse stadsbestuur de roofridderkapitalisten van AirBnB weer aan tafel heeft gehaald) is de donuteconomie opnieuw een effectief ideologisch rookscherm dat over de dringende noodzaak van werkelijke verandering gelegd kan worden. Net als in de BBC-serie ‘Yes, Minister!’ uit de jaren tachtig saboteert een erfenis van ambtenaren uit het (in dit geval: neoliberale) verleden het progressieve politieke programma van het democratisch verkozen bestuur. En misschien is dit dan ook de les die Groen Links van het coronavirus kan leren: dat het leven, en met name het politieke leven, te kort en te kostbaar is om het te verspillen aan het luisteren naar adviezen van ideologische dinosaurussen wier legitimatie door deze crisis volledig in elkaar gezakt is. Geef hun een lekkere donut en stuur ze eindelijk naar huis! Download issue #030 as a pdf Or check it out on Issuu
Issue #030 Published: 13-05-2020 // Written by: Maia Matches
Nepnieuws
Maia Matches - social political comic artist since 2006 Click on the right (or left) side of the image to see the next (or previous) one. Download issue #030 as a pdf Or check it out on Issuu
Issue #030 Published: 12-05-2020 // Written by: Rosie Fawbert Mills
Community and Individualism after Corona
The global crisis of COVID-19 forces everyone to rethink their standing and status. From small to large scale businesses, intrepid entrepreneurs, office workers, civil servants, arts, crafts and creative visionaries, to those with zero-hour contracts and the rapidly increasing number of unemployed... and the list goes on. Absolutely everyone is being given the time to press ‘pause’ on their fast paced lives, yet while for some this transition will be a time of happy changes, for many it will be one of intense struggling. So even more than ever, we need to be there for each other as a community. As the face of society changes, economic security, employment evaporate and even exercise becomes difficult, what will happen to our urban environment? Can and will Amsterdam’s government continue their ‘clean ups’? Previously these have been used as a way to forcefully reposses ‘abandoned’ areas of the city, which had been deserted by industry but revived through squatting the establishment of communities, such as ADM. Regular readers of AA will know that on January 17th 2020 this sustainable and eco-friendly group were forced out of their homes (and as of the 27th February you can no longer access their website - the online search engine seems to have also taken up arms against these  innocent civilians). It is an attempt to eradicate them from society and ignore the contribution they made to establishing eco-systems and social systems for like minded people. Even the information which the website so readily covered (including a fascinating historical catalogue) is now gone. Inaccessible. But not only that, it is labeled as a threat to society. And what about NDSM? From a humble expat’s perspective, corporate competition is being enabled and is consequently flushing out the grass root projects run by people who have a strong sense of belonging or interpersonal connection. Each of my visits to the area is a shocking reminder of how quickly Amsterdam is developing; the rate of expansion and development at NDSM is, to me, horribly breathtaking. One of the appeals of Noord, as a resident, was the smaller community feel. Seeing huge corporations moving into the area is not something that sits well with what I thought NDSM was about. The scheduled 2022 closure of Pllek which is being petitioned against by staff at the restaurant, for instance, will leave a dead space on the water line where there was once a thriving hub of activity. The use of the space at NDSM for festivals throughout the year, which attracted huge swathes of tourists, apparently has not satisfied the corporations’ thirst for developing the Noord banks of Amsterdam. As an example, ADE - ‘a space of music discovery’ - brought 400,000 people to Amsterdam in 2019, placing it on the map as a must-see; it has been hailed as the ‘world’s largest electronic music event’ for dance music producers, artists and fans alike. Yet, in 2020, we have started the year with large events and gatherings being banned. Social distancing is the new norm. The idea of community is having to move more and more online, but what does this mean for the foreseeable future? A possible answer comes from Matthias Bouw, landscape architects and creators of a residential area on the IJ as part of the Hackable City Project explored “how digital technology can facilitate city-making” as this “more organic mode of development has proven to be much more resilient.” Neighborhoods were found to be more diverse, the “quality of the architecture tends to be much higher” and “the energetic performance of the buildings are better”. Ultimately, because it is a bottom up economy, people are able to make their own choices and thus “the communities have organized themselves around the ‘circular economy’ with the reuse of local resources.” In the summer of 2016 a new, collective community was being built in Almere Oosterwold. At the time, Tjeerd Herrema, head of housing at Almere council, “explained it is letting a new area develop by allowing people and collectives to build their own neighbourhoods and infrastructure (with a few ground rules).” The bitter irony (or tragedy) here: this sounds a lot like ADM however, disappointingly, this alternative community did not have the corporate funding to back them up. Is this de-urbanisation? Sinus Lynge (co-founder of EFFEKT architects) believes, “it makes a lot of sense to look at being self-sufficient in a village, in intensive modules, or in an area that is being deserted.” As Amsterdam was booming and the 2000s crash seemed like something of a distant nightmare, sustainable innovation was under threat. Independent development was being prioritized over personalized, community based projects, despite the knowledge and understanding of the benefits it can bring: to the eco-system, in the pursuit for a more sustainable future, and to contribute to an immediate and more intimate shared sense of society. Would it be foolhardy to hope that the new ‘COVID crash’ might clear the way for more bottom up communities? Can and will the Amsterdam Government pursue the same rate of gentrification? Now is the time to stop this. Across the world, we need to ask why it has being allowed to happen. Why the (financially) dominant societal groups are permitted to priorities improving or sustaining tourism, developing accommodation in ‘prime locations’, on profit, at the expense of complementing the artistic, cultural heart of the area. I am not saying that there is no space for individualism in community.  To strive to be the best can benefit the greater good: the best of individualism could be said to allow for “extraordinary capacity... to have the opportunity to take advantage of existing resources; it allows the expression of counter opinions... Allows the eagles to soar; it opens philanthropic opportunities; it opens new frontiers”1. Remembering Katharine Johnson, the successful NASA mathematician and one of the pioneering (female, African-American) employees who paved the way to moon exploration, who recently passed away, reinforces this. But in those who use it to justify egotism and disproportionately use the world’s or local community’s resources, or to place blame with others, there is a risk that it threatens the push for a more community focused, coordinated and ‘sharing is caring’ society. In this strange time, when our attention on others is magnified - as we check that we all keep a 1.5-2m distance, avoiding each other in the shops and parks when we escape our homes for fresh air and exercise, paranoia about catching the dreaded, potentially deadly virus from a cough or sneeze - perhaps it is a time to think about what makes our community what it is. Conversely, because our attention is focused on others and ourselves, people are coming out in force to be more community minded: sharing meals, taking the burden of shopping trips from those who need assistance or to self-isolate, being extra-vigilant with self-hygiene. These small societal shifts can be and will be hugely successful. Could we all benefit from a progressive Labour Party Prime Minister like New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern is? Amongst other things, her “wellbeing budget”, which she has come under fire for, shows her conviction that a country’s success should be measured not only by wealth, but above all by the wellbeing of its inhabitants. “Rather than focus on financial criteria alone, the state budget aims to increase wellbeing. Record sums have been allocated to mental healthcare, poverty alleviation, and the transition to sustainability.  Economic growth alone does not make a country great,” Ardern argued, “So it’s time to focus on those things that do.” Her message is clear: people depend on one another - and it’s a mantra that more and more people are moving towards, particularly in this time of mutual need. In a Guardian article published timely in January 2020, Brigid Delaney talks about ‘self care’ and ‘community care’, urging readers to discuss the true essence of life - something capitalists masquerade as caring about while Governments are forcibly destroying. “Rather than just seeing ourselves, we need to recognise that our health and fates are inextricably linked to our fellow human beings and find collective care”. It’s almost like Delaney had a crystal ball - how truer are those words than in this current global situation? Self care was established as a concept in the late 80s by Audre Lorde (someone worth looking up). Lorde declared it as, “caring for myself... not an act of self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare”. Yet this has been hijacked by modern marketing. Self care, from a populist perceptive, has been about treating yourself to a luxury holiday, an expensive retreat or a manicure. Where did it go so wrong? Delaney sees the problems of this term in the label of ‘self’: “self-care is still an idea rooted in a neoliberal tradition of looking out for ourselves, rather than seeing ourselves, our health and our fates as inextricably linked to our fellow human beings.” She goes on to outline what collective self-care could look like: it “is saying “we need to look after each other.” “Collective care exists outside the market and can’t be captured by capitalism, turned into a product that we buy back and, by definition of its price, excludes many from participating in it. The fact that it’s collective, means it’s for everyone. Communal care can include things like being a better neighbour, making yourself available for people who may need support, communities supporting each other emotionally and practically during crises... to larger, more macro reforms and structural changes in society, such as advocating for universal health care, the introduction of a four-day working week, more affordable and available.” When I started writing this article, a week before the COVID-19 outbreak, it almost sounded too dreamy to consider a colossal shift in collective consciousness. Too other worldly. I had written: ‘We can’t influence policy but we can all make small changes to the way we live our lives, and small changes to the way we interact with others’. Now however I am beginning to believe that to dream, to hope that beauty can come from darkness and disease, and to wish for a future where there is a strong community focus feels like more of a reality. Around us, in Amsterdam and the world, a societal shift in consciousness is happening: I’m hoping it is towards a more collective and community based mind set and away from the self and the Freudian ‘id’ that dominated so much of the commercial and capitalist world we lived in. And yes, I deliberately use the past tense. Let’s open this up to all and promote a shift in conversation towards socially conscious resistance. Amsterdam Alternative Academy is in the process of setting up a Summer School on the theme of Radical Social Change after Corona. Perhaps this is a place (digital or analogue) where the collective process of thinking and organizing toward an Alternative Amsterdam could be started… Download issue #030 as a pdf Or check it out on Issuu Photo: Pablo van Wetten
Issue #030 Published: 12-05-2020 // Written by: Gabrielle Fradin
Physical distancing is a privilege, even in Amsterdam
On March 13th, the municipality decided to indefinitely postpone the eviction of the Garage, an empty parking lot in Kraaiennest, Zuid-Oost where around 80 undocumented men live. The eviction was initially planned for March 15th. On April 1st, the municipality of Amsterdam issued a long-awaited statement on potential solutions for the Garage inhabitants. Not surprisingly, what they offered was merely a night shelter that could barely accommodate half of the Garage’s inhabitants, whilst putting them on the street during the day. The discrepancy between official Covid-19 guidelines and such half-hearted, unrealistic solutions is worthy of a good April fools’ joke. This proposal is a clear sign of policy-makers’ blatant disregard for the Garage inhabitants’ life situation. When you live in a place where you have a community, where you can cook food, store your belongings and stay night and day – why on earth would you swap it for an indefinite, city-run shelter open from 4pm until 9.30am, where any derogations from the rules can get you kicked out. Homeless people, and more precisely here undocumented homeless people, need a place to live, settle and grow. They don’t need another shelter with its strict rules and expensive security services. Especially not if that shelter throws them back on the street every morning during a pandemic, Apparently when everyone is ordered to stay home, homeless people are actively put outside by the municipality. Such ‘non solutions’ advanced by the municipal government are even more of a let-down considering how they very obviously benefit from places like the Garage, especially in times like these. Indeed, the Garage provides a precise location where the inhabitants have no choice but to stay, the government is also not bearing any of the costs needed to run this place accommodating up to 100 men. The life at the Garage is mainly funded by 3 small grassroots organisations carried by committed ordinary citizens, namely the Mandela Kids, Family on a Mission and We Are Here, collectively striving to scrape together the 1,600 euros needed each week to provide the basic food and energy necessities to the inhabitants. We Are Here’s attempt at squatting a decent building Following such governmental hypocrisy, We Are Here decided to take the matters in their own hands and on 6th April released a statement announcing that they were currently squatting an empty building in Diemen. As described by one of the squatters, the building was ideal to host the whole population of the Garage, containing many rooms, ensuring some physical distancing, but most importantly boasting kitchens, running water, modern toilets and electricity. In other words, the most basic necessities for a somewhat dignified life. The response of the municipality? Well, as you would have already guessed by now, when the squatters woke up after their first night, they were welcomed by Amsterdam Police. The number of police vans grew as the day went by. Eventually, the municipality refused to start the legal squatting procedure. An eyewitness says that Amsterdam’s mayor Femke Halsema, was sitting at the back of one of the vans on scene, ensuring to expressly give the right to the Police to evict the squatters by force if necessary. Eventually, with the sound of the police forcing entry into the myriad of rooms contained in the empty building, duly ensuring that all squatters had left, We Are Here went back to the dark Garage. By failing to provide a sustainable alternative for the Garage inhabitants, the city of Amsterdam is denying them the possibility of physical distancing. Lockdown or not, in Kraaiennest, each night around 80 men are (attempting to) fall asleep under a tent shared with 6 other people. Quite unsurprisingly then, physical distancing is a privilege that the municipal government decided not to accord to the Garage inhabitants. The shameful operation in Diemen only comes to underline their determination to deny them the right to stay safe. As I write those lines, no case of Covid-19 has been signaled at the Garage, and one could only imagine the devastating consequences it could have if it did. Download issue #030 as a pdf Or check it out on Issuu Photo: Stichting Mandela Kids
Issue #030 Published: 12-05-2020 // Written by: Pablo van Wetten
Portrait of an artist as a young hamster
The last time the ‘content contributors’ of Amsterdam Alternative had a get-together at the end of January 2020 (the last of the ‘physical meetings’ as it turned out) to discuss the course of things to come for the zine, I opted to write something about myself and how I tried to re- main level-headed as an ‘artist’ who aspired to do more writing, music recordings and film editing all from his home... The deadline for that issue passed me by because I have more ideas than discipline and I can’t even remember what I did instead. Trying to get organised I would say. Feeling at ease at home is a new concept for me because I have spent most of my life moving from one tem- porary space to another and only recently have a ‘name-on-mailbox situation’ (the wanderer inside of me sometimes still gets nervous when he sees that little sign but it’s getting better). I don’t have a separate studio and although I have sometimes had access to small studios and have been part of several collectives of sorts in the past, I wanted to really try working from my apartment in Amsterdam-Oost. Although writing is only a relatively small part of my life, I guess I want to mirror the discipline and routine that writers adhere to as a way of life to bol- ster my productivity. I have always suspected that writers might be the craziest among the crazies and I say this with complete admiration. It’s just so bloody solitary, looking at words and harvesting thoughts, but the dedication seems so beautiful to me, so elementary and somehow so cool (there’s a literary word for ya). To master yourself on such a basic level just seems like an enormous triumph, plus you can write anywhere, you can be free. Well I had made enough money during the summer and autumn - working as an amicable low-level car- penter of sorts - to give it a try, could afford a couple of months just staying at my home, writ- ing and recording music. I would live off my savings and in March I would make good mon- ey again working the festival season. Good plan. I think of John Hurt in that movie ‘Smoke’, a writer absentmindedly walking the street of Paul Auster’s Brooklyn, a brooding intellectual with a blue-collar streak. I could walk through the Javastraat on my breaks, the only street in Holland that looks like Brooklyn at times, and go get some bread instead of cigars, shooting the breeze with the small shop owners, bathing in my eco-system. Oh yes I love the idea. Now I must confess I find it very hard to get a good day going. Inbetween all the meditating, jogging, morning pages, self-help books, staying in touch with family and friends, eating healthy, watching quality films, therapy, evening meditation, song writing, technical research, home improvement and video-footage on my hard disk begging to be cut, it can feel a bit overwhelming to strike a balance and find the right order of execution. What comes first? What is a good day? I struggle and ask for advice and google topics (I hate how that has be- come a verb) too much, too quickly. Still, being less hard on myself for a goddamn second, it takes time to get into new routines and after a couple of months just staying home, I can say the nervous feeling has subsided somewhat. I don’t have a lot to show for my time. I wrote only a half a dozen songs, learned to program a drum computer and music sequencer and played a couple of try-out gigs. I still get confused how to start my day right but I’m trying to be gentler with myself and not beat myself up about it too much. I’m starting to get there slowly. Waking up early has been very helpful, it seems I feel really good when I get a head start. It makes me feel less chaotic somehow and the dreadful feeling of the day slipping trough my fingers is dwindling. I suspect that in the U.S. I would be on medication. What do you think? Now the world has turned surreal and I’m getting all these extra months to practise staying inside to further develop a good routine and become a productive artist. I’m not one yet, but I’m doing OK. and sometimes that’s enough. Look at the world, what have I got to complain about? By the way, a piece like this one you are reading, is not what I want to spend my time writing about. I just felt compelled to share my experience trying to get going. Oh, and the title refers to me stocking the freezer with homemade meals at the beginning of the pandemic so I didn’t have to bother anyone in case I fell sick. I’m not really a hamster and I’m hardly young any- more, I’m just me. That much I have learned. Now if I could only find a good way to end this piece... Download issue #030 as a pdf Or check it out on Issuu Photo: Pablo van Wetten