Under gray skies and rainy, so readily served by the Dutch climate is not in danger of remind me of Holland as a country bathed in sunshine, watch the flow fields through the window of the train that takes me to Schipol, Amsterdam Airport. A lot of things remind me of the exact day when I arrived, just three months ago, more or less at this time, and I can even remember what I was anxious to take possession of what I had won, in a kind of painful flash -back book from the heart that readily interrupt out of respect for my person. Meanwhile preparations mentally rechecking facts today, before leaving, remember now as if he had forgotten something might have the slightest utility. Redial stages of my last day in Holland, spent mostly among the legacies of various objects, last minute purchases, and sale of the bicycle.
fact, leave the keys to something that was yours, be it a bicycle, an apartment, or whatever, it's really sad. I can say that when I put the keys on the counter of the bicycle shop, and those stuck in the mailbox of the owner of the house, I tried the clear feeling that everything was ending and that it was time to go home. Not without nostalgia for all that these three months have been, but also with the desire to see their homes, urging the hour. Now I just have to wait for a ferry flight to me in my life ever, and wants this to happen is becoming less significant, through the need to revise a lot of important people, to the pleasure I feel at the thought of the moment when I lie in my bed, without hearing him give way under my weight so that I take a dish as I had to get used to doing in recent months.
not know that I have followed this blog, even if I continue to write whenever I have something to say, nor do I know that this experience will follow; I can say though that I will go because we both have one, since the first I've rediscovered the pleasure of writing for the sake of it, and for the second ... Well I just hope that I can ask again in the future: quo vadis , Banko?
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