There’s no magic here in the studio.

Just the work —
refining, adjusting, starting over.
Daydreaming and the occasional late night.
And yet, the moment I step inside, I want to begin.
Always.

Traces of earlier days remain:
a Sony Betamax recorder, stacks of sketchbooks —
reminders of where it all started.
Outside, the view stretches over the Zuidas.
With a little imagination,
the treetops become the hills of France.

And yes — soup. Every day.
A kind of internal reset.