Lost
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Amsterdam
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Stuff you hear on the street
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There’s a woman coming out of the park with her four Jack Russell terriers. They are barking and jumping around, in the way that most Jack Russells seem to do. I am on my bike, waiting at the traffic lights when I hear the dogs, and turn immediately as I’d recognise those yelps anytime. The
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Faces on the street
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The man walking ahead of me is muted. Muted in the sense that he fades into the background. One of those people on the streets you would fail to notice. Not even a face in the crowd. He is one of those invisible people. He’s dressed in shades of brown and tan. Colours that say
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Morel mischief
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There’s a market stall here in Amsterdam every Saturday that specialises in mushrooms. That is all they sell. To walk past it is quite an experience, all those delicate, strangely shaped fungi laid out in their baskets, the earthy smells of forest and moss, of leaves and decay. It’s a dangerous smell, that entices and
