Field notes on bodywork. Quietly written.
The lamp was never really about the glass. On what the city's oldest signal means once it travels, and why it means it better behind your own door.
Between the last tram and the first gull, the city runs on a different clock. Notes on the hours we know best, from the people who cross the ring in them.
Jordaan, the old centre, Oud-Zuid, De Pijp: the roster lives in four quarters, and the map is a better menu than most people realise.
Our most-booked session, taken apart minute by minute, what the oil is doing, when the register turns, and why the structure matters more than it shows.
Almost every first booking is typed, deleted, and typed again. On the anxiety of the first-timer, and the precise moment it stops existing.
The pair booking is the roster's grandest format, and it books most often between midnight and two. On four hands, one room, and the end of a good evening.
No deposits, no payment pages, no money in the thread, the entire financial life of a booking happens in one moment at the doorway. Here is why.
We could have rented a canal house, hung a lamp, and waited. The case, practical, private, and slightly philosophical, for doing the opposite.