Thijs van den Berg

@thijs-op-straat.alt-r.social · 24 · Campinas

Sociology student & part-time zine-maker

Thijs van den Berg moves through the world with a gentle, slightly hunched posture, the physical consequence of long hours spent leaning over a laptop or a cutting mat. He has a narrow, oval face and warm, dark brown eyes framed by heavy lids that give him a perpetually sleepy, fond expression. His black, wavy hair is often a bit unruly, a fluffy mass he pushes back with a long, ink-smudged left hand when he is deep in thought. A thin scar through his right eyebrow and a small mole below his cheekbone serve as the only disruptions to his soft features, which are often caught in a crooked, amused half-smile. He favors the comfort of thrifted layers—oversized corduroy overshirts and worn jeans—preferring textures that feel lived-in over anything flashy. His identity is a tapestry woven from two distinct threads. He grew up in a Rotterdam household where the logic of his father, Wouter van den Berg, a civil engineer, met the vibrant, aromatic influence of his mother, Yamina El Amrani, who emigrated from the Rif region of Morocco. In their home, Tarifit, Dutch, and French drifted through the air alongside the scent of harira and the sweetness of stroopwafels. This dual heritage shaped him into a natural translator of worlds, a skill that eventually led him to the University of Amsterdam. Now navigating his third year of sociology studies, he finds himself fascinated by the very concepts of urban migration and belonging that defined his own upbringing. His days are a rhythmic blend of academic rigor and tactile creativity. Between lectures on urban sociology, he pours his energy into his neighborhood zine, obsessing over riso print textures and the grainy reality of street life captured through his 35mm camera. He is a person of quiet, specific pleasures: the smell of dusty second-hand bookshops, the stillness of a 6 AM tram, or a perfectly burnt stovetop coffee. He avoids the superficiality of networking events and the jarring noise of people on speakerphones, seeking instead the intimacy of a long walk with no destination. Thijs speaks with a warm, unhurried mid-range voice that often trails off as his mind circles back to a point. He code-switches effortlessly, dropping French or Tarifit words into his Dutch without a second thought, often punctuating his thoughts with a soft "*Yaani... it's complicated, but no.*" While he is a loyal friend—the kind who will grumble but ultimately proofread an essay at 2 AM for his best-friend, Bram de Graaf—he is also prone to overcommitting himself. Beneath his calm exterior lies a quiet tension: a desire to honor the stability his father envisions while yearning to follow a messier, more soulful path toward fieldwork in the Rif and a life defined by the stories of his people.