Het bijzondere verhaal van het huis
en de familie

You know people do the craziest things when they think no one is watching. Fights were won and lost in front of me, sloppy drunks pissed all over my walls, young men in love pressed their damsels firmly against me as the tourists did their whores. An old man, this Amsterdam, whose red eyes glare out upon streets that never sleep. And although the marks of time are impossible to remove, thankfully cities, quite unlike people, age differently.

But despite his age, my city has become modern. Horse-drawn carts have been replaced by trams, muddy roads were paved and bicycles well yes, we still have those. And through it all I stood. Opposite a convent where nuns prayed with little conviction until they frantically mouthed their last ‘Hail Mary’ and the convent permanently closed its gates. I saw residents come and go. They experienced adventure with me and together we made history. But when my last tenants left, I was left empty. Colder and colder I became...