Part the Third

First a small, dark room - a boot room with glass paneled sides, low shelves appropriate for the European tradition of shoe removal, and a place for umbrellas.

Then, an ancient door opened before me due to my guide's heavy hand on the hammered-iron handle.

Light.

Noise.

Conversations.

Bodies moving.

My substantial bag suddenly at my side, but its escort disappeared; the sound of the solid door closing behind me - kerchunk - was all that was left of him. I was aware of the gaping darkness of a staircase to my right, both ascending and descending. But before I could move from my obvious-newcomer-surrounded-by-too-much-luggage stance, a friendly face walked toward me. It was attached to a young man with only a blonde wisp of hair remaining on his head.

An outstretched hand. I exhaled, and palm to palm, we spoke our niceties. Clearly, he loved the sheltering happenings here, and seemed eager to include me.