The Hyperborean Mythos Amsterdam: Deserted Orchard (1975)

I entered the room with my twin boys. Like the hall and hearth downstairs, it contained the furniture necessary for the most meager hospitality of a guesthouse in Amsterdam. It was 11:00 P.M., it had an iron bed with a brown-drab-colored spread over it, a wooden chair next to it, a hat-rack and a washbasin, nearby. The walls were a dirty pale yellow, and naked of any pictures, a nail here and there, short and rustic, a sinister looking room. I fed the boys a ham and cheese sandwich, they were per near four years old. Then I put them to bed, "What can I do until I'm tired?" I asked myself; a rhetorical question perhaps. Horrified by the idea of being shut up in this room sober. I paced the room shrugged my shoulders, it was fall of 1975, and there was a chill in the Amsterdam air.

from Arts and Entertainment Articles from EzineArticles.com http://ift.tt/1U5oB3c