I do not believe in miracles. A miracle would involve God throwing his dice. And God does not throw dice, or my name would not be Einstein.

Yet, of what else could I think but a miracle, when this happened?

After a good concert with compositions played from Bartok, Scelsi and Ruo – thus in good spirits – I drink a coffee with the friend of a friend who invited me. We are sitting in the café next to The Concertgebouw – Bodega Keyzer.


As you can see, after you have entered there is a small corridor with on one side the bar, on the other a row of little tables:

We are sitting at one of these tables, the one next to the entrance. The place is filled up, most of the people having listened to the concert next door. My friend sits with her back to the bar, my back is fixed to the heater under the large window. In between us the table, against which that part of my body leans – the part with a liver thrombosis and a few aneurysm’s in stomach and esophagus.

Just after I heard something like a gasp, a man falls backwards from one of the bar-stools, then against the chair of my friend, who in her turn bangs into our table, which cannot but bang into the bodily part mentioned.

A miracle, what else! A black one at that, as I fear the worst has happened. Then, again, I do not believe in miracles. God does not throw dice. He must be a billiards player, this perhaps being his cue:

He has delivered his master piece, much more difficult than the regular canon with three balls.


God played a canon with five balls – the man he toppled, my friend’s chair, my friend, our table and then my liver. A master player, however mean as the Devil himself.

Sierksma 15.12.15


Author: rjsiersk

Sierksma was born in Friesland, a 'county' in the northern part of the Netherlands with its own language which he does not speak and with an obstinate population to which he both belongs and does not belong. A retired Professor of Social Philosophy and Aesthetics, as a Harkness fellow he taught at Rutgers and Berkeley Universities in the USA, and at GUAmsterdam and TUDelft in the Netherlands. In 1991 he was awarded his PhD from Leiden University on the subject of 'Surveillance and Task: Labour Discipline between Utilitarianism and Pragmatism'. His books include Minima Memoria (1993), Lost View (2002 with Jan van Geest), and Litter Scent (2013). He has published poems and articles in Te Elfder Ure, Nynade, Oasis and the Architectural Annual. Half the year he lives in Haarlem, the other half he spends in la France Profonde, living ‘in his own words’ as the house out there was bought with the winnings from his essay Eternal Sin, written for the ECI Essay Prize (1993). In this blog, Sierksma's Sequences, written in English, he is peeping round his own and other people’s perspectives. Not easily satisfied with answers nor with questions, he turns his wry wit to a number of philosophical and historical issues. His aim in writing: to make parts of the world light up in his perspective - not my will, thine! Not being a thief, he has no cook, one wife, some children, one lover and three cats.

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