Bottleparty in the park
Nine p.m. entering the apartment I hear the sound of distant drums. There is a party in the neighborhood. Try to locate it but the sound flows in and out through the inner gardens. Take a shower, dress up, a bottle of Cava from the fridge ( always their for a party) and there we go. In the neighboring not a sound can be heard, it comes from further away, direction of the park: electronical music. I see youngsters strolling out of the park.
on the heights of the Wolvendael park hundreds of young people are gathered for a picnic. I hide my cave in a waste bin and walk up the party. Pay myself a drink, stroll around. On the stroke of ten p.m. the music stops, and so does the bar; It’s Cava-time. Search for my bottle which is still chilled, search for a nice group of people to toast on this sunday. Quickly found a bunch of students to share the bottle. nice talking, cheers and goodbye;
in fact the bottle was meant for the supposed party in the neighborhood: good evening i am your neighbor. Instead of sending you the police for nuisance I am here to offer you a bottle and share the party if you don’t mind;
On my way back home i am the happiest man in town, in the falling darkness of the park , walking down the slope, I sing a song from forgotten days: Cara Vaucaire’s Trois petites notes de musique: