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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 inside.

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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