The musical performance Als het anders loopt is about a waiting room where no one wants to be. Where the walls move, people falter and yet remain strong.
Anyone can end up here, my father says. He fills out an endless stack of forms and I have to be quiet. It's been at least a hundred and ten hours. There is a high desk, with two blue latex hands behind it. They tell us what to do, but I don't understand.
People come and go. A girl on an IV dances so lightly, I think she can fly. The boy who just sat next to me has no arms and legs, but he can do anything. Down the corridor walks an old man. You can laugh with him; he has forgotten that he has been coming here for years. In his eyes float summer clouds. And me, I'm just different. That's a good thing, my father says. So much is already the same.