So dear reader, hang on tight, because I have no idea where I am currently sitting in this story of "Rani in the land of cheese, dijks, and bicycles".
One of Laura's friends from Switzerland came to visit her, and arrived tonight. I came to visit after work, and we sat in her apartment drinking and talking for a while. I looked out her window and noticed that the dusk light had made an obvious attraction of the outline of a series of dutch townhouses opposite her building.
I mused something or rather outloud about the pretty buildings.
"I know! It's like I don't even see this city anymore, now that I live here. I am here, but I just don't see it!" Laura proclaimed.
I agreed.
Every time I climb a set of stairs that are on a 25 degree angle, everytime I look at a wave of cyclists making their way somewhere as I stand at a tram stop, everytime I walk over a canal bridge, everytime I hear dutch conversation, everytime I see beer in the supermarket, everytime I read an outdoor billboard, the awe of it is no longer there.
The dutch landscape has become the backdrop to my every day life.
I am unsure if my time here is going to be a thesis, a novella, or a thick and heavy memoir. I have no idea how long I am going to be here. I can make plans to move on, concoct daydreams and blueprints to where I will be this time next year, but in essence, it may well be that I will still be here. And the stories, will (hopefully) just keep getting more random.
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