My embedment in Dutch suburbia continues. Tonight I’m sleeping in the bedroom of one-year-old Vera. She has two older brothers, four and six years old.
The four-year-old refused to eat his dinner.
His mother said to me: “You are our age, but you live such a different life.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said.
“It’s good that you spend the night with us, otherwise you would never see the truth,” she answered.