We all were feeling quite tired; me, Mr Fox and our friend "Muzzy". For two days we had been travelling, first by a ferry to Stockholm and then by a train across Sweden and Denmark.
Because we were young and extremely thirsty, we had eaten just some crackers, cheese snacks and chocolate cakes.
Because we were busy eating crackers, cheese snacks and chocolate cakes we hadn't had time to think about sleeping, until we wanted to just sleep forever and have some dreams of cheese cakes. Because we just wanted to sleep, we didn't think it was July, which was funny, because it was +30°C outside during the night, my lips were dry and my black short skirt had turned to be light brown because of the heat. Possibly because of the heat we hadn't booked any accommodation and it seemed like everyone else had done so.
Mr Fox: Where are we going to sleep?
T Fox: Can't we book a hotel room from there? [points towards the Cinderella's castle type of building with red carpets and elegantly waving flags]
Muzzy: Last time I was here, we were sleeping in a rather nice youth hostel. It takes just about twenty minutes to get there... by train.
So we went to the Railway Station, only to notice there was just one local train leaving at that time of night and it was going to the right direction. We jumped in and had a lonely ride to a place called Bussum Zuid. What we found in the darkness, was a sleepy dormitory town, but no place to sleep. The owners of the posh buildings were dreaming of their rectangular lawns, where the worms were at deep sleep, dreaming about whatever that is the worms dream of.
Mr Fox: Where exactly is that youth hostel?
Muzzy: Well, I think it was somewhere here or there.
The direction there led us to a bigger rectangular lawn, where the weeping willows silently whispered over the stone beds for the eternally tired ones.
T Fox: This isn't a youth hostel. I think it is a cemetery.
Mr Fox: So, besides you are beautiful, you really are bright too.
Muzzy: Stop it. I think I know that path there.
So there we were, silently walking our way, heavy backbags increasing our joyful mood, when we saw a flat warehouse on one curve of the track. Three men standing near a dented Chevy van, looking at us, climbing inside the car. Suddenly we were standing in the spotlights.
T Fox: What was that noise?
Mr Fox: Did they start the engine?
Muzzy: I think they are after us. Run!
To be continued
About selfies - I just discovered that the French for *selfie* is *égoportrait*, which is entirely perfect and beautiful. *PS: I’ve been advised that égoportrait is spec...
3 days ago