Mother tongueI was in a hall-way in a department store, and it was very crowded. There even was a traffic jam, and I moved from the left into the right lane. Somebody ahead of us in line said: "You may all go now, because it will not come today." And most people left. I and about six others stayed. Now that the multitude had left, the doors of the elevator could open. The person who had shouted "You may all go now," said: "Otherwise the doors could never have opened." I stepped into the elevator, that had a floor in the shape of a chute, and asked the people that stayed behind: "Where is this elevator going to?" They shrugged their shoulders. No idea. I got out again.
With two others I was on a terrace and I thought: There is no such thing as a mother tongue. When speaking, everyone uses the words he or she thinks will be best understood by the listener, no matter what language.
Somebody on the terrace wanted to have a squeegee washed, because she had just used it to smear her bread, and I took it with me to the bathroom. It was in a cellar, and above the canal there was a shallow basin to wash oneself. A carriage without horses passed, and the people who were sitting on top of it moved bicycle pedals around, as a touristic attraction.
Utrecht, Monday 1 December 2008
