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02.03.2016 | Words by: Ruben Leter

After many many years of being a loyal contributor to the London dancing community, Beatrice decided it was time for something different - something new.

Nobody saw it coming. Beatrice was always considered to be more of a homely person. One who doesn’t leave the house unless absolutely necessary. Her friend U was somewhat surprised by her sudden escape, and even more when she called him shortly after he had heard the news. Beatrice appeared to be needing some company during her adventures, and decided to go for it: "Would you care to join me on this trip?" U: "Who, me?"

And soon enough they were on their way, approaching the Harwich ferry towards Hoek van Holland. There, on the beach, right next to the Dutch waterworks, he was. Sitting in a perfectly round self-dug hole surrounded by sea stars and scallop shells, listening to the ocean with a large roughly edged shell to his ear. He looked at the duo, gave them the shell and spoke: "Listen."

They did as they were told, and found out soon enough that the shell didn’t just reflect the sound of the vast amount of water in front of them. It had a strong, confident voice, backed by a wondrous mermaid crying her ocean song. The man inside the shell was mentioning creatures of nature, and soon enough they saw what they had heard: "…seabirds, fish…" It had a beautiful melody, that left them startled for many minutes. 

The man in the hole introduced himself as Lutto Lento. He enjoyed the company of these foreigners, who felt comforted by his shaman-like figure. They decided to travel as a group, one that would not accept to be limited by time or distance.

During their road trip, they visited Holland’s must-sees. First, the group travelled up north, where they felt energised by happily strolling past windmills. Afterwards, the three nomads visited the province of Friesland. They participated in the Sneek Week, a teenage dream holiday filled with sailing and drinking games.

Then it was off to Madame Tussauds Amsterdam, where they thought they saw Dutch royalty, but soon were left in agony for thinking it was the real deal. U thought it’d be good if they jumped on their bikes, so they travelled through tulip fields wearing wooden clogs on their wheels until their feet started to ache.

They ended up on the highest top in all the land: the three hundred meters high Vaalser Mountain. Overseeing the country they got to know so well in such a short amount of time, it came to them. Where to now?

Even Lutto the wise, who had never observed the world as a place with borders and to whom boredom was an incomprehensible disease, did not know what the next destination could possibly be. Life until then seemed like a reversed pyramid with limitless options. Then, right there on that mountain, their positive perception of the world was gone; lost. Being entranced by the wonderful experiences they’d had over the past days, they just couldn’t imagine this would be the end of their journey. 

Spending the night in exactly the same position, not being able to move, or to speak anything at all, it happened. A young man, hooded in the latest Parisian art scene fashion, appeared. They had all heard of him, but never truly believed the legends to be true. It was him. It was DJ Arif. 

Arif was carrying a Rush Hour tote bag, in which sat a 13-inch Macbook Pro. He opened the laptop, typed in his password, logged on to the local wifi and gave them the machine. Clueless, the group stood there, staring at Arif. "Go somewhere else," cried a voice from above, and so they did.
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