Apothecary jars sit on the windowsills, full of porcelain shards and other bits and pieces collected over the past two years.
Marbles, buttons, glass stoppers and lost limbs.
Last time we were at Churchaven, we met a man on Boerplein who took us back to his tiny house and showed us some of his finds. He gave me the piece with the temple on it, and wanted me to take more.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that half of the joy was in the finding. So I told him the story of the Willow pattern.
We dream of living there, but I could see that he was very lonely.
Walking above Pottebakkerij, we met some flower children and were rewarded with a tune on the didgeridoo. The instrument was so long that it rested on the ground, and he tapped a small round shaker against the cylinder as he blew...
even the birds stopped to listen.
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