HANS VAN TIGCHELT, Born in Turnhout, Belgium, in 1964, married with two children, is a lover of sportscars and bluesrock, whilst professionally he's a manager in a large multinational. Little indication thus of him concealing a writer within, let alone a poet. Admittedly, his poetry is not your usual rhyme of love or the loss of it. Reading his lines is more like coming down with the flu: the more it sets in, the more poorly you will feel...
THOUGHTS OF EONS will upset you and make you question the writer's sanity as well as your own for not being able to resist reading the next page.
It's occult, gothic, rebellious and harsh. It taps into degenerated minds. It can be witty, reflective, even musing at times, and then on the next page the floor is swept away right from underneath your feet once more.
NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED, BUT OH SO ADDICTIVE.
A winter's evening, an open hearth, a Single Malt (you'll need it!)