THE SEA
It is attainable for all Belgians
For every Belgian, a little box with a view of the sea
Our coast is monotonous, solid and strong
Straightforward and rough like our sea, and therefore beautiful yet dull
In front of that wall of buildings stand beach cabins
one with artificial grass, another with striped shutters
All different, all unique, and yet
their heterogeneity forms a homogeneous whole
The sea is not dull
she is bold
powerful
salty
sometimes even sweet
the sun sparkles
shimmers differently every hour
The terrace is cold
windy
noisy
from the neighbors above and beside
Life inside the boxes is dull
Concrete shells, poorly insulated
The bunkers from ’40–’45 were to be removed as soon as possible, yet we immediately built new ones without realizing it, because under the banner of modernity and progress, all criticism and critical thought faded away.
The concrete boxes are dull, and the only thing left to do is live in them. Once inside, you no longer see that they are dull boxes, their fourth wall made of glass, pane, or mirror. At night, the promenade becomes a giant test pattern where each box is a TV channel. But after sunset, the sea turns into a black, gaping void, where the window that once offered a view into infinity suddenly becomes a mirror reflecting your life, your being, and the cramped, monotonous space you inhabit. This confrontation is too much to bear, and a curtain becomes more than a necessary evil.
