But he did not show up. So I took a rickshaw and went home. I had no interests in commuting by bus without him being around. I wondered what must have...happened to him. I had his number. I could have called him and found out. But did not have the courage. After my maid left, I retrieved the chit from my purse and looked at the number. I typed the number on my mobile, but before dialling I hung up. I put the chit back in the purse and started watching TV. But his thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind.. She is of the generation, some year in the 70ies which doesn't dare to speak unasked for at an unknown gentleman.Writing this, is the third time I cry in ten minutes. Firstly the music. Secondly as result at a flash of million memories.Thirdly from this romantic short erotic encounter, like from a famous novel which won world wide amazing attention."Sir, You do look like Frits van der Ploeg! Did you perhaps live here for some years, much more many years back?" Well by Jove, I am indeed!". More

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