"I'm not homesick but languagesick"
No way Henk was going home. The films
had been developed but they only saw
them through the viewer. There still
was a lot of editing to do. Eight tapes
with sound and twenty Kodak Plus-X
reversal films of about seven minutes each.
Enough to make something out of that.
Maybe he could go see Boet again.
Would the motocross season continue
throughout the winter? Or did they go
to the southern hemisphere? And there
were those stadium motocross events...
like in the Goffert. The last address
he had of him was in Lisbon.
Cassette tape with Montale's Mediterraneo
It was cold on the bike but he only had
to go as far as Toulouse, where Boet would
pick him up. There he could get in the van
to Paris. Indeed there was a stadium cross
in Bercy. Boet had to stack straw bales there.
"And all the time you didn't contact mom and dad?"
"Well, I ... they know I was washing dishes
somewhere on the Riviera. That should do it.
Like you write a letter every week."
"No, but I sometimes give them a call."
"But I'm just a bit telephobic like dad.
A normal conversation on the phone, I just
can't manage." Boet said that their parents
weren't at home that often anymore. "They
picked up traveling again since we left home."
