“If we could choose any one door, which would it be?” Colombine asked. Lu Cia drew her notebook closer, as though we had just been given a serious assignment. I looked at our bags. “All right. But the only keys we have are for our room.” That did nothing to stop our new game.
An imagined story inspired by original Travel2City photographs. The four scenes bring together separate stops, rather than a one-day itinerary. The characters, conversations and lighting are an artistic interpretation.
In Bruges, we found a little blue door squeezed between tall walls. Below it were a few steps, and then water. From the opposite bank, Colombine declared it her first choice. “Practical. Your visitors arrive by boat.” Lu Cia leaned over the parapet for a better look. “And if you forget your key?” Colombine thought for barely a moment. “You wait for a tide of good ideas.” I looked at my boots and decided to admire it from where I was. The door could keep its secret. Our laughter reached it across the water anyway.
In Ghent, our eyes climbed the stone facade all the way to the towers. The round window above us looked like an eye inspecting three curious visitors. Colombine lifted her chin a little higher. “Now, this looks like a proper address.” I could feel my scarf slipping off my shoulder, but I still couldn't stop looking up. Lu Cia smiled at us. “If height is how we're choosing, we won't be able to turn our heads tonight.” We lowered our chins almost at the same time. Our great expectations had just requested a short break.
In front of the carved portal in Antwerp, Colombine adjusted her collar. The stone figures above us carried so much dignity that even our ordinary lingering began to feel ceremonial. “Are they expecting us?” I asked. “Of course,” she replied with a straight face. “Three ladies. No appointment.” Lu Cia burst out laughing before she could write anything down. The heavy wooden doors stayed closed. We didn't try to go in; standing under that arch and pretending we had arrived for a very important meeting was quite enough. In fact, we were already having one.
In Bokrijk, a small white chapel with a green door stood beside the path. Grass grew behind a wooden fence, and the dusty track disappeared between the houses. “So which one won?” Lu Cia asked. I glanced back at the little door, then at the open path ahead. “I think this one,” I said, setting off. Colombine looked where I was pointing. “But there isn't a door there.” “Exactly.” Lu Cia closed her notebook without announcing the results. For a while, we simply walked side by side. Then Colombine asked whether we might still find one with coffee on the other side.
“Here, all three of us can go together.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
The world of Travel2City continues between the covers of a book. Discover The Map with No Last Page and more illustrated journeys.
