SMELLS AND ODOURS

Since childhood, smells have accompanied us like little invisible presences. They slip into our memory, settle in silently, and then sometimes resurface, intact, triggered by a gesture, a place, or a breath of air. Everyone keeps them inside like a secret herbarium, made of houses, faces, and moments long gone.

I can still recall the smell of my baby bottle, that warm and familiar Lacson’s milk, and especially that of my bib when the old stains, embedded in the fabric, took on that unique sharpness of oxidised milk when exposed to the air.

I also keep, with an almost touching clarity, the trail of 4711 cologne. My grandmother, my parents, my mother-in-law, and then my husband wore it in turn. That note of bergamot, fresh and bright, seems to have crossed generations to reach me again. It will probably never leave me; it will remain linked to them like a scented thread stretched between the living and the absent.

Other scents remain engraved deep within me: freshly cut grass, dry harvest under the sun, straw resting in the fields like blonde hair. Even the white nettles in the ditches, when they raise their almost virginally white flowers, exude a discreet, humble, and poignant presence.

Other scents remain etched deep within me: freshly cut grass, hay drying under the sun, straw lying in the fields like blonde hair. Even the white nettles along the ditches, when they raise their almost virginally white flowers, give off a discreet, humble, and poignant presence. 

Pharmacies and drugstores, on the other hand, had their own atmosphere: a mix of remedies, wax, old powders, and slightly stuffy air. You’d enter them like stepping into another world, sometimes poorly ventilated but immediately recognisable, with that serious smell of care, bottles, and secrets tucked away behind the counters.

In the garden, the marigolds, planted to keep slugs away, sometimes imposed their strong scent over the finer aromas of lilies of the valley, roses, or wisteria. And in churches, the incense from services and funerals rose in persistent spirals; its heavy, penetrating smoke made me sway, as if the very air were turning into prayer, mystery, and vertigo. 

And what about the smell of leather in a new car? That short-lived, almost luxurious scent always faded too quickly. There were also wardrobes, where lavender sachets perfumed the underwear with a gentle, comforting freshness. I can still remember my mother’s perfumes: Chanel No. 5, then other heavier fragrances, chosen to mask the lingering smell of moth repellents on her fur coats – Joy by Jean Patou, maybe a Guerlain whose name escapes me now, Chamade or Terracotta.

On the flip side of these warm memories, nicotine remains for me one of the most unpleasant smells: it would cling to the rooms, the clothes, and the bathrooms frequented by heavy smokers, like grey dust that’s impossible to get rid of. Luckily, awareness of the dangers of tobacco has gradually reduced its presence and, with it, that harsh trace that weighed so much on non-smokers. Even darker are the smells of rotting plants or decomposing bodies. I remember a warning I’d heard long ago: never buy a used car in which someone had died. That smell, they said, seeps everywhere, sticks to the fibres, the seats, and the tiniest folds, and no air freshener can really conquer it.

Even darker are the smells of rotting plants or decaying bodies. I remember that warning I once heard: never buy a used car in which someone has died. That smell, they said, seeps everywhere, clinging to the fibres, the seats, and every little crease, and no air freshener can really get rid of it. 

But what a joy, on the other hand, to open the door of a well-kept house, where a bouquet of fresh flowers greets you before any words are spoken: French lilacs, peonies, or simply that clear smell of cleanliness, laundry, calm, and peaceful living

City Live

 

                                                                               

                                                   Watercolour by Amarie, the city of Antwerp    

          City life has always been familiar to me: I was born there, raised there, and drawn to its old buildings—sometimes worn, yet always full of character. My family lived right in the centre between the police office, the city hall and the church of St Nicholas in perpetual renovation. Our house was facing the belfry, with its carillon diffusing folkloric melodies every 15 minutes Those ancient streets and stones were both my shelter and my horizon. The steeples and towers, the sound of bells, the rumble of traffic, the yellow trams ringing as they came closer, sometimes throwing sparks from the rails, the hungry pigeons circling over the squares, and the constant stream of hurried pedestrians all formed the backdrop of my daily life. The old post office, the courthouse, the station, the many churches, the prestigious cathedral with the world-known triptych of the Van Eyck brothers and the bridges created a sequence of memorable city views. The parks offered quiet places of escape, where we walked our pinscher, and the city garden, which my father shaped like a little paradise, was the kingdom of my childhood. At its centre stood an old weeping willow, whose branches held the swing that carried my wildest dreams. Nearby, a small shelter protected us on rainy days, beside the vegetable patch where picking ripe vegetables delighted us with their scents, colours, and flavours.

Yet those places of childhood disappeared with the city’s rapid growth. Today, I recognise almost nothing, and it seems that the vivid, picturesque landscapes of the past have been erased by modernity.

Among the finest cities in Flanders, I would name Antwerp, Bruges, and Ghent. They too have surely changed over time, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. I know Antwerp only a little, but I am certain that, like my hometown, it contains places of remarkable beauty. Curious readers might turn to the book written by our Prime Minister, whose many anecdotes make it both lively and enjoyable.

Bruges, however, is more familiar to me. I shared many happy moments there with my children while they attended the city’s leading schools, where they formed lasting friendships. Bruges is a city on a human scale, threaded with canals and filled with almost unreal mediaeval vistas. Throughout the year, it welcomes visitors from all over the world who come to admire the city rightly known as the Venice of the North.                

 

Japanese garden

Nature has always appealed to me, particularly structured gardens that are generously planted and require little to no lawn maintenance. After caring for a half-hectare plot composed largely of grass—soon transformed into a meadow—we wanted, following our move from the coast to the center of the country, to create a new garden that would be more ornamental and richly flowered. Our aim was to develop a subtle blend of inspirations, drawing from each garden style the qualities that appealed to us most: the symbolism of Oriental gardens, the topiary art of French gardens, and the light spontaneity of English gardens.

The Japanese garden seeks to represent an idealized version of nature on a small scale. It evokes mountains, lakes, rivers, and the sea, while harmonizing subtly with both its immediate and distant surroundings. Unlike the French garden, it values asymmetry, suggestion, and the art of revealing without exposing everything at once. Straight lines are used sparingly, as are even numbers, once associated with misfortune. Its guiding principles are sobriety, serenity, flexibility, and balance, all serving contemplation and of course meditation.

Japanese gardens are built around elements that are both natural and symbolic. Rocks and stones may represent sacred mountains, islands, or mythological figures such as the turtle and the crane, symbols of longevity and happiness. Water—whether in the form of rivers, ponds, or waterfalls—symbolizes life and movement. Trees, bamboo, ferns, and mosses express the changing rhythm of the seasons and the art of miniaturization. Lanterns, originally intended to illuminate temples, now bring a sense of mystery and elegance. Paths and bridges guide both the eye and the visitor, gradually revealing the garden without ever showing it all at once. 

In a Japanese garden, each element carries a spiritual or poetic dimension inspired by Buddhism, Taoism, and Shintoism. These gardens are conceived as living paintings, where the balance between fullness and emptiness, together with the integration of the surrounding landscape, creates a condensed representation of nature. Miniaturization allows vast landscapes to be suggested within a limited space, while symbolism and borrowed scenery enhance the contemplative quality of the setting.

Several types of Japanese gardens can be distinguished. The dry or Zen Garden, composed of gravel, stones, and moss, is defined by its simplicity and meditative purpose. The water garden, organized around ponds, streams, or islands, encourages peaceful observation and gentle wandering. Miniature and pocket gardens, designed for smaller spaces, can be created in courtyards or even on a windowsill with bonsai trees.

In essence, the Japanese garden combines nature, symbolism, and philosophical thought with great subtlety. It invites serenity, contemplation, and a harmonious relationship with the environment.

By contrast, the French garden is characterized by strict symmetry. Its spaces are divided into square or rectangular sections, structured by straight paths. Pools, imposing fountains, and carefully trimmed hedges contribute to a composition that is orderly, elegant, and fully controlled. Buildings are integrated coherently into a classical and harmonious overall design.

The English Garden, on the other hand, favors winding paths that suggest mystery and escape. It brings together a wide variety of trees and wildflowers, arranged in a freer, more natural, and picturesque manner. Its design is based on spontaneity, while bridges and grottos often reinforce its romantic and intriguing character.

Drawing inspiration from these contrasting approaches, we wanted our botanical garden to become a synthesis of their respective qualities. Our primary goal was to eliminate the need for lawn mowing, especially on a plot with a fairly penty slope. We therefore favored shrubs and plants with staggered flowering periods throughout the four seasons, so that the garden would remain attractive all year round. White gravel paths guide the visitor through the space, while a few trees provide welcome shade for delicate plants as well as visitors during periods of intense heat.

The result is a rich and varied garden in which certain species, sometimes rare, have found their place according to their needs for water and light. The driest and sunniest areas naturally accommodate the plants best suited to those conditions. Around one hundred and fifty species thrive there, with varying degrees of success. Naturally, some disappear from time to time, whether because of minor cultivation errors or because of an exceptionally hot or, conversely, particularly wet year.

Nevertheless, the overall result remains remarkable, fully meeting our desire for color, fragrance, and successive flowering throughout the seasons. The garden conveys a sense of peace and tranquility. Its maintenance can be spread over time, since pruning can easily be postponed without causing harm. It is simply a matter of preserving for each species the space it needs to develop according to its rate of growth.

 

                                                              Aquarelle  By A.W

Banks are overwhelmed by the current financial world.

The last half-century has transformed life from top to bottom: the economy, finance, education, instruction, fashion, the way of living, and last but not least, politeness. 

My grandfather, being a fruit grower, would be surprised to see an industrial farm and chemically treated apples on my table. Just as pharmacists cannot control how clients use sometimes dangerous medications, bankers, even aided by AI, cannot prevent their clients from risking their assets in games of chance and casinos. 

Ideally, a household should divide its income into three parts: daily needs, pleasures, and savings. It is essential that banking institutions evolve in order to integrate new investment methods and rapid international transfers and be aware of their competitors among alternative banks. The speed of transactions and the growing demand for anonymous payments should be taken into account. Financial securities, metals, energy, and consumer goods experience significant volatility, which can fluctuate within seconds or hours. Global events, particularly conflicts, have a direct impact on the global economy. Investors must be able to adjust their positions at any time through instant operations, a service that should be accessible to both banks and their clients, to grow its money and manage unforeseen events such as serious illnesses or natural disasters.

Furthermore, it should be noted that many debts and transactions, including those involving institutional players, are carried out via blockchain, P2P, or digital gift cards. Although these processes are known for their confidentiality, they are traceable: each transaction is permanently recorded on the blockchain. There is also a noticeable lack of mastery of new financial practices among some bank employees, including in reputable institutions. For example, knowledge of essential documents such as the bank statement can sometimes be lacking.

Finally, the growing popularity of instant payment systems like MoneyGram and Ria meets the need to quickly send money to relatives living abroad, particularly students. In the era of cryptocurrencies, it is crucial that traditional banks recognise the increased competition from multifunctional institutions offering a variety of services in investment, instant international exchange, and alternative assets (currencies, precious metals, commodities, and real estate).

Banks and their employees struggle to keep up with the rapid evolution of the financial world. Over the past fifty years, all areas of life have been transformed, including personal finance management and access to banking products. Institutions must now adapt to new technologies, such as instant transfers, alternative banks, or anonymous payments via blockchain and gift cards. The volatility of values and the emergence of new investment tools demand increased responsiveness from both clients and banks, who often fail to keep up with these changes. The lack of technical knowledge in some employees and the competition from multifunctional platforms show that it is urgent for traditional institutions to modernise in the face of the diversity and speed of current needs.

My main intention is to contribute to clarifying an essential aspect of the transformation of the financial sector and to shed light on the major changes affecting this field today in order to promote a better understanding and to encourage reflection on current issues.

 The scope of LOVE

Love, this emotion that is both enigmatic and universal, structures human existence in all its aspects. Omnipresent in literary, philosophical, and sociological fields as well as in daily interactions, it proves to be a fundamental driving force of life in society. Its intrinsic meaning and tangible impact nevertheless often give rise to questions and divergent interpretations. This reflection examines the scope of love, not only as an emotion but also as an organizing, regulating, and generative force within human societies. Love, in its many expressions, constitutes an essential foundation of the human condition. From the very first moments of life, the emotional bond established between the child and their attachment figures ensures their survival, emotional balance, and development. This fundamental bond fosters trust, a sense of security, and the ability to open to others. From an anthropological perspective, the different forms of love—familial, friendly, or romantic—have historically promoted the organization and cohesion of human groups by encouraging solidarity, cooperation, and the transmission of knowledge.

Family love represents the initial experience of affection and support. It is expressed through everyday gestures, encouragements, tenderness, and sometimes even conflicts, all of which reflect a deep bond between members of the same household. This form of love is crucial for personality development and the integration of values such as respect, kindness, and empathy. Friendship also relies on love—a love without a romantic dimension but based on trust, sharing, and complicity. Friends often make up a chosen family, a circle where one can be authentic and share both joys and sorrows without fear of judgment. Friendly love represents constant support, offering comfort in adversity and enriching moments of happiness.

Many works of art, literature, music, poetry, and even some scientific discoveries find their source in a loving inspiration. Love stimulates the imagination, nourishes ambition, and gives meaning to existence. Guided by passion, artists explore beauty and suffering, joy and loss, producing creations that resonate with the universality of human experience, where one can be authentic and express both joys and sorrows without fear of judgment.

In social share, love also encourages collective engagement. Love of justice, peace, or nature drives many individuals to invest themselves in common causes, to defend human rights, protect the environment, or help others. This is then an expanded form of love, which transcends personal relationships to embrace humanity, or even all living beings. In the face of challenges, love is an inexhaustible source of comfort. Whether it is a failure, an illness, mourning, or a social crisis, the caring presence of loved ones or friends can transform suffering into hope. Communities united by love for others are better able to overcome difficulties and rebuild after a trial.

In the contemporary context, where isolation, uncertainty, and individualism weaken social bonds, love appears as a remedy for loneliness and distress. It is also important to emphasize the significance of self-love, a component often neglected but essential for overall well-being. Learning to love oneself, to accept one’s imperfections, and to cultivate kindness toward oneself forms the foundation for harmonious relationships with others. Self-esteem nurtured by love allows one to set healthy boundaries, assert oneself, and grow with confidence. In a world where competition and mistrust seem to prevail, love remains the indispensable cement for social stability. It promotes mutual aid and dialogue. In the professional sphere, it is expressed through respect, listening, and recognition of work accomplished. Within institutions, the love of public service, empathy toward the most vulnerable, and the desire to build a shared future guide decisions and inspire collective action.

Some philosophies and spiritualities, such as Christianity with agape, Buddhism with compassion, or modern humanism, place universal love at the center of their worldview. This unconditional love invites recognizing the dignity of every being, transcending differences, and working for peace. From this perspective, love becomes an ideal, a horizon to strive for, and a moral compass guiding individual and collective choices. However, it would be naïve to view love in an exclusively idealized light. It confronts everyone with the fear of rejection, jealousy, dependency, or suffering. Romantic, family, or friendly relationships go through crises, breakups, and betrayals. Learning to love also involves learning to forgive, to grow through differences, and to build harmony despite life’s vicissitudes. True love requires courage, patience, and humility.

Today, love is being reinvented through social networks, dating apps, and new modes of communication. While the tools make connections easier, they also raise challenges in terms of authenticity, superficiality, or trust. The essential point remains: even in a hyperconnected world, love retains its relevance and power as long as it is rooted in sincerity and respect for others. The impact of love cannot be measured by words or gestures but by its ability to transform lives in united hearts and give meaning to existence. Whether it is familial, friendly, romantic, self-love, or universal love, this invisible force shapes society, supports individuals, and inspires the future. In a constantly evolving world, love, in all its forms, remains the most beautiful promise of humanity and the key to a fulfilled life. 

Modern Family at a Crossroads

In the past, the family represented a fundamental foundation, a tangible and meaningful reality. Today this notion has changed and takes on a more formal character, often limited to a simple administrative or symbolic connection. The very meaning of family has eroded, and the distances between its members tend to grow over time.

Nowadays, each individual shapes their life around their own circle of friends and professional relationships. Even parents operate in environments that remain unknown to their children. They invest their time and energy in service clubs, where they hold important positions such as secretary, treasurer, vice-president, or president. Friendships formed during travels or stemming from previous professional relationships become pillars of their social lives. These new circles permeate their daily lives and profoundly influence the way they think and envision the future.

When it comes to children, each one grows up in a distinct universe, shaped by different values, beliefs, and goals. Their life choices are so different that it now seems impossible to see them move forward together. This diversity is a wealth for their own development but also a key reason why they gradually drift away from their once beloved parents, no longer identifying with or feeling comfortable in the family environment where they grew up together.

In the face of this evolution, the family does not disappear but is constantly being redefined, incorporating new models and new forms of relationships. Blended families, single-parent families, or chosen families testify to this adaptability to contemporary realities. This plurality of family structures reflects the increasing individualisation of life paths and the desire of each person to create tailor-made relationships based on affinity and shared values rather than solely on biological or legal ties. Nevertheless, this transformation also raises questions about the ability of a generation to maintain intergenerational dialogue and preserve certain reference points. The family becomes a shifting space, where traditions and innovations coexist, inviting everyone to rethink their role and place within this ever-changing collective.

    A forgotten Family Photo

                                                   Pierre, Frieda and Anne-Marie

 This old family photo becomes like a window into a world that still breathes behind the paper

Finding an old family photo is like opening a door to a world that now exists only in memory. The image, a bit faded, a bit grey, seems to breathe still. One can recognise familiar faces, simple gestures, and a way of being together that tells more than a thousand words. Every detail becomes a clue: summer light, a period piece of clothing, a smile that hasn't changed. You can imagine the voices, the laughter, the conversations interrupted by the click of the camera. And suddenly, the past feels close. It is no longer just a photograph but a fragment of life that comes back to the surface.

These recovered images remind us where we come from, what we have been through, and the quiet tenderness of ordinary moments. They are open windows onto time, silent witnesses that continue to watch over us, even when those depicted in them have long since left the frame. It was one of those bright summers in Knokke, on Albert Beach, where time seemed to stretch gently. There were the three of us: my brother, my sister and I, gathered as always by the sea. Dad, true to himself, held his Rolleiflex ready to capture every moment, as if he already knew that these images would become treasures.

My brother, already intrigued by the young women in bathing suits passing by laughing, cast curious glances around him. My sister, on the other hand, proudly sat atop a car inner tube – the fashionable flotation device of the time. She called me, inviting me to come sit with her on the tyre. I hesitated; the water was cold, too cold for me. But she insisted, gently pulling me, almost laughing, and eventually gave in. We must have been in the summer of 1947 or so. A simple time, when everything still seemed possible, when the sea, the sun, and the presence of loved ones were enough to fill an entire day.