Mus ad fundum

See I The Gold
Wet All Over
The Thirstforce Playing
A Child And Its Temper
Looses First Than Gains Powder

M muse Mijnsje m m

Melete, Aiode, Mneme, Mijnsje or Whom?

Identified as the Mnemosyne
Limousine
Memory of Titane
Mother of nine, nine Z musses

Flying to the top
To Olympia, Olympus
Thin, air, looking Woolf, Angel and Poet
In the eye

Globe, glove, a ball
Play, sing, rush, a flush
Poker face has left itself
At home

I rule
A moment
of
Reckless unbuttoning

space fishes

First the great, the generius, the brave

So glad to have you here

Ping! I have an idea

What if I started to name you

Youri Joery Joehi Joey Joer and i

Then what? What shall I call me

A light blue lady with the golden lion headed red bracelet

Smiling like the sun just came up

Swaying a large soft brand yellow bag

The train is not waiting

Hurry up, say it

That you love me, what else?

Or is it who else?

I glanced through your looking glass

Everyday is Valentina's day

Women under water. Page 1.

So dry. I had to cry. What a text! People. Peoples stories. I wonder again and when I wake up I think again. What was it. Between us. What did I do. What did you do. You, solitary skinbag of bones. Shivering. Me. Shell, shelling, some thing delicious once you tasted it you would never stop. It was too late. Late afternoon. Westerbork was waiting. Something covered in glass. A greenhouse, freshly erected. You galloped the orange juice and of you went. In a whimp. For the hunt. Our children were waiting, hungry.

No more games

Simple playfull animations
Children learn the classics
Music by Prokofjev
How an orchestra works on the road
How director Danielle Gatti teaches excitness
Not interactieve, no
Every tree starts with a seed
275 schools adapted the applies
Free by mailing info@followamuse.nl

Première

In July 1985

I was in Rome

Accompagning Josephine

Or was it the other way round

Did I do

The same as Napoleon

I had the bona partes

The right boobies and bills

At first glance

The Roman males thought so

Later they had to admit

It was not like that at all

Mr. Vagabond

So, tell me, Mr. Vagabond

About the children

Which of them were your favourites

And whom did you neglect?

I know there were so many

Some of them coming back to you

Again and again

Too hard to refuse

And didn't we agree in that

A few days before you could

Celebrate your sixties year

To play it platonic

Weren't that the rules

Too read, write, think and speak

Now and then

Like a three month itch

Finally you bought yourself a fairhaired girl

In the play offs, down south

Lying down for a while

In the arms of Eve

My heart is black

It is full of ink

Not like yours

Bright fluid maple red white flocks