The parking spot at the edge of the wood has small stones, there are carefree people’s empty cars standing there. There are also two people on bikes facing each other, at a distance. The woman is young, the man is older than her father. They are putting an end to their relationship, the woman stays silent, the man talks. I’m standing next to my car, I can’t hear what he is saying, I can see from his back that he is talking. A man who is older than his wife wins from a separation. They have been married eight years, that’s not long enough for a balance. Later I see them walking in the park, they’ve left their bikes behind at the parking spot. What really surprises and even disturbs me is what I see: he is fishing, he’s standing there fishing. Everyone knows that fishing in this park is prohibited. Everyone knows that the foresters here are strict. I walk towards them to warn them, even though I don’t know him. But when I see that his young wife is sitting waiting on a bench, I keep walking – I hesitate, have I misinterpreted the situation? I go to the park a couple more times with the intention of apologising, but I don’t see them again. I want to tell them that they must turn up, for I am leaving for West Flanders for a long time, where the farmers uncover unexploded grenades every day when ploughing. But I don’t see them again, it’s a great disappointment to me. When I’ve got back from West Flanders, I’m older. When visiting the park for the first time I see the woman’s bike at the parking spot. This time I wait for her in my car. I talk to her. She tells me her husband is a philosopher, with Ludwig Wittgenstein as a speciality. To me question as to whether he still fishes in the park unpunished, she laughs delightedly and gives a proud nod. It must be a good marriage, I was mistaken.
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