Strange stuff going on. Very strange stuff.

I have the impression that someone is breaking into the ground-floor flat.

Dammit. Apparently, they’re not home.

Lots of noises that sound like someone breaking in after checking that nobody was home.

When whoever it was rang the doorbell again, however, I asked if it was the woman on the ground floor. I thought that I had briefly heard her voice on the patio after this started. No, it was some guy, something about a car. (The intercom does not work too well.)

Weird, though. Seemed to have been hitting the wall with something, too. That’s what it sounded like.

Everyone else who lives here should have two sets of keys and none of them are single so can get access to the other person’s keys if needed, but I hear no calls being made either. We’ve had too much strange stuff here before.

I have henna on my head. Can’t go to the door downstairs, but would have to open it to see who’s there and what they want.

20:21: The next thing I hear, however, is someone LEAVING the flat under mine, going downstairs, leaving the building. Wtf? I didn’t hear anyone ascent the stairs.

20:25: Also am hearing some sounds in that flat now. Were two people fast asleep in that flat? Or did they also ignore who ever was downstairs, at the door? I had the feeling that the visitor was for that flat, when I spoke through the intercom. They rang that bell too, but not the bell on the ground floor and they only tried that other bell very briefly after they’d rung mine. Wrong doorbell, I figured, at first. Happens a lot.

It’s often happened that someone rang that doorbell, came upstairs, barked something at whoever is in that flat and then left again, usually leaving the front door open. Maybe they simply no longer want to deal with whoever that is.

Why are there always pieces of dead leaves coming out of that flat? It reminds me of something that happened next-door to me in Amsterdam once. There it was plant remnants and soil. That neighbor rang my bell one day, too. No key. Couldn’t get into her flat. The fire brigade helped her get in. She told me she’d had a miscarriage at the hospital. There was indeed a little bit of blood on her clothes – I washed them and gave her some of mine – but was that really from a miscarriage? That was before the police broke down the door one day.