| Amsterdam central station
Autumn The first people arrive before sunrise. A few ants explore their surrounding from a tiny hole. Birds announce daylight. More people leave the station. Newspapers, gloves, hats accelerate, try to catch tram 13 or 17, 1, 2 or 5, the wheels are spinning. Others stand and wait while the sound of a clarinet seems to ricochet off the passers by. It slows me down, and I see my number 5 leave, but hey, that clarinet puts some kind of grin on my face, this second day of October. I am too lazy and ashamed to make my way to the musician and part with some of my hard fought for copper. All I do is hope that someone else will; there is always a jingling in my pocket, but that grin is often so far away. |