{"id":27514,"date":"2024-01-15T06:20:31","date_gmt":"2024-01-15T05:20:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/?p=27514"},"modified":"2024-01-15T06:20:32","modified_gmt":"2024-01-15T05:20:32","slug":"peter-berger-tot-de-leegte-en-jacques-mees-noemt-haar-vera","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/index.php\/2024\/01\/15\/peter-berger-tot-de-leegte-en-jacques-mees-noemt-haar-vera\/","title":{"rendered":"Peter Berger &#8217;tot de leegte&#8217; &#8211; en Jacques Mees noemt haar VERA"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-scaled.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"683\" src=\"https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-1024x683.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-27376\" style=\"width:486px;height:auto\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-2048x1365.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/peter-berger4-1568x1045.jpg 1568w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\"><br>Ik heb iets met sleutels. Deuren. Blijkbaar. Vandaag ook weer. Fris en guur is het in de stad. Lekker! Staalblauwe luchten. Kortom, candy voor de longen. Het voelt als roken bijna. Die ijskou in je longen. Diep. Vries. In de Weimarstraat. Een klein uur lopen van het Scheveningse strand. Daar staat ze. Pal om de hoek. Twee van die vierkante appie tassen naast de voordeur op de stoep geparkeerd. Boordevol lekkers. Een jonge moeder, want luiers ook, parmantig verpakt in een blauwe parka en een dikke gewatteerde broek die haar gek genoeg flatteus uit verf doet komen. Die broek. Achter de fluffy rand van nylon konijnenbont schuilt een weifelend meisjesgezicht. Met een neus die net geen wipneus is en lichte paniek in de ogen. Ravenzwart is ze. Het haar. \u00a8Ik kom mijn eigen huis niet in,\u00a8 fluistert ze fragiel.<br><br> Ik voel haar twijfel. Een vreemde. Man. De sleutel steekt nog in het slot. Ik ken dat wel. Een onverzettelijke deur die klemt door vorst. \u00a8Heb ik in Leiden ook,\u00a8 stel ik haar gerust. \u00a8Zo\u00b4n deur.\u00a8 Haar blik ontdooit. Ik leg haar uit dat het een kwestie is van een harde ruk en precies in dat moment de sleutel draaien. \u00a8Plus een flinke dosis domme kracht natuurlijk.\u00a8 Ze lacht en zucht dat ze al een kwartier aan het klooien is. \u00a8Kan jij het alsjeblieft proberen?\u00a8 Het is iets in de zang van haar stem. Ik denk dat ze Fran\u00e7aise is, maar slik de vraag maar in. Tegenwoordig. Spaanse? Met een ruk, een snelle polsbeweging plus lompe schouderbeuk is de klus geklaard. Klik, en het kreng zwaait piepend en krassend open. Haar blik spreekt boekdelen. Opluchting fonkelt in haar ogen. Ze mompelt iets over haar man en een schuurmachine en meer dingen waar ik geen weet van heb. Een warme lach en een vluchtige aanraking doen dienst als vaarwel. Ik ga vaart maken. Flink doorstappen en dan rust in mijn kop. Altijd. La mer. El mar. Om het even. Een uurtje nog. Tot de leegte. <br><br>PETER BERGER<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-4-3 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Vera\" width=\"640\" height=\"480\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/WEc8gYADOPE?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\r\n\t\t<style>\r\n\t\t\t.huge-it-share-buttons {\r\n\t\t\t\tborder:0px solid #0FB5D6;\r\n\t\t\t\tborder-radius:5px;\r\n\t\t\t\tbackground:#3BD8FF;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t text-align:right; \t\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t#huge-it-share-buttons-top {margin-bottom:0px;}\r\n\t\t\t#huge-it-share-buttons-bottom {margin-top:0px;}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.huge-it-share-buttons h3 {\r\n\t\t\t\tfont-size:25px ;\r\n\t\t\t\tfont-family:Arial,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,sans-serif;\r\n\t\t\t\tcolor:#666666;\r\n\r\n\t\t\tdisplay:block;\t\t\t\tline-height:25px ;\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t text-align:right; \t\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.huge-it-share-buttons ul {\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t float:right; \t\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.huge-it-share-buttons ul li {\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-left:3px;\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-right:3px;\r\n\t\t\t\tpadding:0px;\r\n\t\t\t\tborder:0px ridge #E6354C;\r\n\t\t\t\tborder-radius:11px;\r\n\t\t\t\tbackground-color:#14CC9B;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.huge-it-share-buttons ul li #backforunical27514 {\r\n\t\t\t\tborder-bottom: 0;\r\n\t\t\t\tbackground-image:url('https:\/\/www.pomgedichten.nl\/wp-content\/plugins\/wp-share-buttons\/Front_end\/..\/images\/buttons.20.png');\r\n\t\t\t\twidth:20px;\r\n\t\t\t\theight:20px;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.front-shares-count {\r\n\t\t\t\tposition: absolute;\r\n\t\t\t\ttext-align: center;\r\n\t\t\t\tdisplay: block;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.shares_size20 .front-shares-count {\r\n\t\t\t\tfont-size: 10px;\r\n\t\t\t\ttop: 10px;\r\n\t\t\t\twidth: 20px;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.shares_size30 .front-shares-count {\r\n\t\t\t\tfont-size: 11px;\r\n\t\t\t\ttop: 15px;\r\n\t\t\t\twidth: 30px;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n\t\t\t.shares_size40 .front-shares-count {\r\n\t\t\t\tfont-size: 12px;\r\n\t\t\t\ttop: 21px;\r\n\t\t\t\twidth: 40px;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\t\t<\/style>\r\n\t\t\r\n\t\t<div id=\"huge-it-share-buttons-top\" class=\"huge-it-share-buttons nobackground\">\r\n\t\t\t<h3>Share This:<\/h3>\r\n\t\t\t<ul class=\"huge-it-share-buttons-list \">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li class=\"nobackground \" >\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a id=\"backforunical27514\" href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/sharer\/sharer.php?u=www.pomgedichten.nl\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27514\"  onclick=\"javascript:void window.open('https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/sharer\/sharer.php?u=www.pomgedichten.nl\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27514','1410949501326','width=700,height=500,toolbar=0,menubar=0,location=0,status=1,scrollbars=1,resizable=1,left=0,top=0');return false;\" style=\"background-position: -0px -80px \"><\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li class=\"nobackground \" >\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a id=\"backforunical27514\" href=\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/share?status=www.pomgedichten.nl\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27514&text=Peter Berger &#8217;tot de leegte&#8217; 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