In an old-fashioned Dutch restaurant with old blue and white tiles. Blue and white windmills on the wall. White canvas sails and blue seas. Mahogany and melted candles. Old fashioned glass lamps. A girl with a pearl earring smiles across from me.
A delicious plate of chicken shnitzel lies devoured in front of me. With not a trace left. Not a trace of the fries either. Just crumbs remain of the thick cut frittes, dipped in thick Dutch mayo. A large cold Heineken to wash it down.
Take your time, she said. I think I will.
A napkin white flag signals victory.
And the best admonishment on the wall: the best substitute for brains is silence.