Life, Parkinson and Everything

Siren. One. The silence was deep under the pine trees. When a snapping twig broke that silence, the sound was immediately nipped in the bud by the thick layer of pine needles. A young woman stood on the slope behind the lighthouse of Oost Vlieland. Her slender figure seemed to be part of the irregularly grown trees in the bright moonlight. A little distance away stood a somewhat fat man, wearing only an undershirt and boxer shorts. His eyes were open, but the expression in them was one of deep sleep. Every now and then he seemed to come to his senses, but then the young woman would sing something very briefly with a thin melody and he would be back under control. Unwillingly, he trudged after her again, deeper into the forest. The branches and needles under their bare feet didn't seem to bother them. They crossed a footpath, but did not follow it; the woman seemed to glide through the forest on her own compass. She stopped at the back door of a holiday home to softly sing her ini