Wednesday, September 27, 2006


The House at the end of the neighbourhood stood surrounded in myst. House with the broad window frames painted in shiny white, house with the carefully tended cottage garden, neighbourhood built as a village remake of old Amsterdam.

Sitting on the big grey couch with the white cushions, three sisters were unable to distinguish whether the slowly moving particles outside the safeness of the living room were rain or bits of cloud drifting along. The bike trail disappeared into the fog at ten meter distance, the church in the village next door was nowhere to be seen. Nobody knew where the myst had come from, nobody knew how long it would last.

Don't overanalyse, one sister thought, as the other two took their bikes and vanished, on their way to school. Was it not in a movie featuring myst that a character named Ulysses got away with saying these things?

"My footsteps, somehow they lead me here."

"The first thing God created was the journey. Then came doubt, and

"To the eternal sea, the beginning and the end."

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