Back home in Limburg, we’d watch the weather forecast.
And when Amsterdam—somewhere far up on the map—
showed 21°, we’d always say:
“Then it’s 24° here.”

But I live in the west now.
Here, there’s always wind.
I sometimes call it “fight weather.”

Coming home, I have to peel the flies off my teeth
after cycling back with a clenched face.

And now I see it on that same weather map:
24° in the south.