June 20, 2020


She had the strangeness that always catches the eye and it sticks. Not a gypsy but in a voluptuous colorful patched skirt, a wrinkled top, she paced with the luggage trolley filled with the oddities that mark a destitute from the traveller.

Homeless with an impish smile.

Schiphol plaza was deserted except for the odd clearing staff with a Politie crossing once in a while.

The last train from platform five was at 23:39 hours. Two tired night men dragged themselves and stumbled to the lone seat on the deserted platform.

The lady appeared from nowhere with it seemed with her eclectic luggage hanging comfortably across her shoulders. The smile remained. The train screeched to a halt and our three protagonists made their way to the first compartment. the dark tunnel whizzed. Was it the train or the white light or was it the darkness? The smoke and the unreal transition transported our two tired lost men in a world of nowhere , to a place past and primal.Castles whizzed past and so did the fanatical monks and medieval torture chambers.

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