The Winter Salon, in fragments

The room smelled like wax and rosemary before anyone sat down. Loek opened with a question no one quite answered, which was the point. By the second course we were talking about whether Amsterdam is being designed for the people who already left, or the ones who might still come. An architect and a chef found themselves in violent agreement; a gallerist quietly disagreed with both. What we remember, mostly, is what was not said: the pause after the toast, the moment someone reached across the table to refill a stranger's glass. The long table works because no one can hide at it. That is also why it is hard. We will not tell you who said what. We will tell you that two collaborations began that night, and one of them is already in the world.