Designed by Brussels-born architect, Auguste Perret, St. Joseph’s was completed in 1958, the fourth church on the spot.  I hope that it stands forever. It offers a majestic calm to counter the infinite suffering of mankind’s greatest folly – war. This temple of the soul strives to quench the spilt blood, to offer an alternative. Itis an unforgettable castle of concrete, light, and sound.

For fans of concrete and those to be converted, St. Josephs is a masterpiece. On the outside, it is a sleek tower, elegant yet with a weighty permanence one can trust. It is a lighthouse that guides sea farers, Le Havre citizens and tourists alike. It is modern, futuristic even – the outside reminds me of the Sci-Fi weapons, the inside has the feel for a spaceship, momentarily at least, for the light and sound transport us to different celestial reflections.

The light – transformed by the glassworks of French artist Marguerite Huré – creates mosaics of red, gold, green, blue and lilac glass  squares, triangles, and rectangles that rise up the walls, up, up, up the tower – in columns, in rows, in squares that puncture and punctuate the thick concrete walls, turning sunlight into shafts of colour that pierce the air, warm the rock and marble, and light up the upturned faces.

Red speaks of the blood of martyrs, the light lilacs of gloom and death, the pinker lilacs, the gold and green give hope, symbolising the nativity. Blue symbolises the heavens. And the orange and gold exalt the power of the spirit.  Pathos for the past mixed with hope.

There is also a language in the form and orientation of the glass.  The vertical rectangles of glass represent humankind’s aspirations for the celestial heavens. The squares that stand on their sides talk of the stability of perfection. Those balanced on their corners symbolise the exchange between the earth and the sky; the downward tips of these diamonds speak of Grace coming from heaven and the upward tips of the rise of our souls. They guide us up the colour-lit towers.

Churches can be quiet tombs, but St. Joseph is alive. The air inside vibrates with a music that stops all in our tracks, transports us to a timeless place, a place of wonder, of awe. No one talks, daily concerns evaporate; we float in the music, let it inhabit us, free us. They say that music is soul and the breathing organ pipe carries the breath of the Scottish sound sculptor Susan Philipsz, transformed so that spiritual fog horns fill the air. It is eerie, mesmerising, uplifting.

Concrete can be cold, but with the light, with the music, it becomes majestic, magic. Whether you are religious or not, go to Le Havre, see the beautiful creation of concrete, light and sound that offers a memory of, and alternative to, the history of death.

St. Georges is a local heritage wonder and World Heritage site, and deservedly so, reflecting mankind’s creative genius –  a French glassworks artiste, a Scottish sound sculptor and an architect born in Brussels – collaborating to create this Holy Urban Lighthouse.

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The half-apple inspired a poem, and the poem made people in the Brussels Writers Circle ask what was behind the half-apple, so I wrote a short story. I’d love to know the reality behind this peeled half-apple, but I fear it is probably best that this enigma remain unsolved.

Why did I come to Brussels?

The simple answer is my day job, no, my vocation – I worked in England on trying to improve the environment and was offered an opportunity to come to Brussels. If there is anywhere in the world where being armed with facts and good arguments has a chance of making a difference to policy, it is here, in Brussels, where decisions that affect 500 million lives are made. I knew I’d miss London, my adopted home, but I jumped at the chance. I now work for an international NGO fighting the good fight. The more complex answer as to why I came and stayed, is that I yearned for a truly intercultural home – as a German, who grew up in Australia, Japan and England, and studied in the UK, France and Mexico, I fit in best where everyone is a mix of two or more cultures. That is easy to find in Brussels.

What inspires me in Brussels?

Christmas lighting and installations. On the Rue de la Violette last year, and the year before, colossal square wire and white fabric domes dotted with lights were hoisted between the buildings. Tendrils of light hung beneath and between them – a network of electric jelly-fish hovering above our heads. We walk in no fear under their swaying tendrils.

Musiekpublique near Porte de Namur offers music from across the world to my neighbourhood macrocosmic microcosm – the astonishing Tchavolo Schmitt and Boulou Ferré played here, as two threads of a rich musical tapestry woven over time. Yes, I love gipsy-jazz. If you prefer the outdoors – a Brussels institution of manouche artists often jam near the Mont des Arts, the Grand Place or the Sablon – with an inimitable double-bass player who thwacks the chords of his battered giant instrument, sending the rhythm straight to one’s core. Roam the streets, and you’ll find dozens of first-rate musicians playing in a square near you.

If you prefer indoor jazz, try Sounds Jazz Club, just behind Place Fernand Cocq. And there is always the Couleur Café. There are more museums than days in the month in Brussels. I’ll mention two on opposite ends of Brussels that stand out for me – the MIMA museum on the refurbished Brussels canals with its exhibition of protest posters – GET UP, STAND UP! (on till 30 September) – that remind us of the importance of fighting for a cause. On the edge of the magnificent Bois de la Cambre stands the Boghossian Foundation at the Villa Empain, with its eclectic, inter-cultural exhibits that tackle controversial themes head-on. I remember an exhibition using cut carpets to make a case against war – Heaven and Hell: from Magic Carpets to Drones. Jet fighters were cut out of middle eastern carpets; another work showed shattered carpets, a third arrows piercing a flying magic carpet. Images that remain.

The Boghossian Foundation shared more poetic images in its August 2018 exhibition Melancholia, with, for example, the face comprising hundreds of floating ceramic fragments, by the French sculptor Samuel Yal, evoking the impossibility of single representations of us, and of the multiple elements that make us who we are. It felt to me as if the ceramic fragments were each and every one of us in Brussels, affected and inspired by the hundreds of interactions in a rich and complex city.

What makes life in Brussels extra special for me?

Brussels’ multi-culturalism, the opportunities to appreciate its diversity, having a sense of place and belonging, and engaging with like-minded people. Three years ago I stumbled across the Brussels Writers Circle, an informal network of emerging writers. A dozen people from different countries come together on Tuesdays and Thursdays to give constructive feedback, the passion for the written word creating an informal cross-cultural community. I had just finished the first draft of my novel, and they invited me to be one of the readers. Three years later, I have the honour of bringing together the 54 works from our 100+ membership into an anthology – The Circle – which will be launched on the 22^nd of November at Waterstones in Brussels, and is also available online here.

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