In that town there was a room I kept circling. It
was near my girlfriendís. She didnít know I sometimes
climbed those stairs. On the wall there were photos
from before the war. I talked to an old Frisian
writer about it. He said, ďI know that room. I should
actually go in there, but Iím afraid Iíve left it
too late.Ē He was right. He died during the Games.
The room is still thereóup the steps and left down
the corridor. Everyone knows more or less whatís
Plaza St. Ana
Lisa looked very worried and for a moment I thought
she had something important to say, but past the
zoo she cheered up again. We walked on to the centre
of town and in the evening we took part in a dance
competition, which to our surprise we won brilliantly.
The celebrations were crazy. An open car was waiting
and after a wild drive they dropped us at the Plaza
St. Ana, where it was raining confetti. At some
stage I found myself in the fountain with the winner's
cup, trying to keep my head underwater for ten minutes.
I'm not sure anymore why exactly. It just seemed
like the right thing to do.
A dark car drove up and a small girl dressed as
a clown got out. She took her bag and crossed the
schoolyard. But at school it turned out that carnival
wasn't until next week. The girl was the only one
with face paint and she cried inconsolably all morning.
Around three her mother came back to pick her up.
She was shocked to hear what had happened and, with
tears in her eyes, related in detail everything
that had gone wrong that morning. She'd probably
have done better to keep it to herself. Explaining
things, that's something we're all very good at.
Translation: David Colmer
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