The Nomad’s Noose: A DAFT Sequence

"I used to wake up not knowing what country I was in. Now, I wake up wondering if the Belastingdienst has processed my middle name." ~ SunnyJ

Daft Dilemma

I roamed where the borders were blurred, No "address" or "contract" occurred. But to stay in the West, I’ve abandoned the quest, And signed for a life quite absurd.

The DigiD is keeping the keys, To a freedom that’s brought to its knees. By a BSN debt, And a calculated net, I’m trading the world for some cheese.

I hunted for slots in the slush, In a frantic, bureaucratic rush. While the NS was stalled, I sat there appalled, Feeling my nomad soul crush.

My business is now just a file, In a cabinet, mile after mile. Is the anchor I’ve cast, Gonna hold, gonna last? Or just kill my nomadic style?

The €4,500 sits still, A frozen, financialized pill. I’m safe and I’m found, But I’m stuck to the ground, With a very Dutch, very large tax bill.

A short prose section on the psychological cost of settling down in a country that runs on spreadsheets