(My artwork is not the best so I’ve included a reference photo)
While Nescio’s story was set in and around Amsterdam, with its bustling crowds and urban infrastructure, I walked through my local park, which was populated only by trees and plants. Having spent most the past several months cooped up in my own house, the emptiness was as liberating as it was disquieting. A fixture of Nescio’s story was his interactions with his companions, who helped him write, draw, and dream. Compared to Amsterdam, my park, protected against being torn down, feels as disconnected from its community as I do. Unlike Nescio, my context demands that I dream on my own but, like Nescio I must hold on to those dreams as best I can before the wisdom of age nullifies youth’s hope.