Stage Four: Streelights, People

It was only a week ago and I'm already starting to forget. What was the proper order of things? When and where? I remember how and who, though. And so I go forward.

I continue the early morning jive because if ever I'm going to carpe diem, it will be in these breaks before our shift. Catch the train, the tram, the metro to the cities I have to see. Bite back against the cold. Ready the camera.

Our first journey is to Den Haag, the Hague, Lena's former stomping grounds. We step off the train into the sub-10 a.m. sunlight and a cold wind strikes us. Really cold. Enough to decide that I'm willing to buy a winter coat regardless of the euros.

But we march on. "Here's an old church," Lena says.

"When was it built?"

"I don't know."

I like the honesty. I take pictures anyway.

Spurts of rain. Umbrellas snap open. Nobody seems to mind.

We purchase cheap sweaters in matching shades of purple, and that improves our moods considerably. As well as the weather. We see the UN buildings, the Peace Palace, the uninviting gates of the American Embassy, so many flags, so many bikes.

There is a dignity here. Quiet and classy. Classical and modern. I can see myself on these streets, a passing glance at the rain.

We have light.