Kennoba’s upper class huddles together. Expats need to feel at home. And be able to enjoy the swimming pool in the garden. And network with their equally privileged neighbors. Ambassadors, bankers and a handful of lawyers.

Further down the street is a markunbiki, a kind of kiosk built from four poles, some canvas and a zinc plate. The local convenience store. Mutombo, the owner, is seriously ill.

I was sixteen years old when, 50 years ago, the helmet requirement for mopeds was introduced. A lot of noise, of course. A helmet cost money, got in the way, looked bad and, most importantly: suddenly, every day became a bad hair day. The latter was probably the real reason for the moped's nose-dive in popularity.

October provides a nice bonus. The bright blue sky and the late summer temperature could easily pass for the end of August. It may be the last nice day before autumn really takes over.

Technological phone gadgets promise security, but often cause serious hangovers. Joost (28), a security expert himself, experienced it first-hand on his last evening in Barcelona, ​​when he was celebrating his business success on a terrace.

Inside the shopping mall, the illusion of another world prevails. One of pleasant coolness and exuberant Christmas decorations. In the background, Sinatra dreams of a white Christmas. Hardly anyone has ever seen snow, but the atmosphere is unmistakably Christmas. Kennoba's upper class is doing their Christmas shopping.

She grabs her cell phone from the passenger seat. No signal, and she gets out. A branch flies against the back of her head, which hurts viciously. She waves her hand, but the branch has long since disappeared.

She hears him turn off the shower. In a few minutes, he will come in. Then it will be her turn. To freshen up for the night she is supposed to never forget.

The horror of July 2019 still haunts her every night. Eventually, even her husband dumped her. Her cat has remained faithful to her. For her, she is still alive.

My four-year-old daughter was born when I was seventeen. I never saw her father again. Fortunately, my family did not send me away.

Everyone was very happy when I visited my family last month. My mother told me the news. Father had found a husband for me.

There are rumours that a number of smart people invented Blue Monday to be able to sell their empty hotels and holiday homes in January. The reality is that many people feel that the third Monday of January is the most depressing day of the year.

End of August. The holidaying Dutch return to the base. Of course, they all had a great time. My neighbours look devastated. The house of the neighbours across the street is for sale.