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Gate of Delft undressed

        Not far behind the Hofplein fountain you will find the last gate of Rotterdam. At first sight an ugly thing, a weird looking and rusty skeleton. Someone without better judgement would expect the demolition hammer falling down on it any moment. Someone who wouldn’t take time to look around, that someone wouldn’t know. Standing right in front of it, the perspective changes. Don’t blame oxidation for its colour; it is there for a reason. Whatever the real story is, the message is clearly tied in with rust.     Whoever has the guts to enter the building, will soon discover more. Nowhere in Rotterdam you can feel the history of the city as painful and heartless. Yes, here, at the base of the Pompenburg, time stops. The carcass slowly reveals its secrets. On signboards and plaques the story finds its listener. It’s not the real gate, but a reconstruction out of steal. Solemn it stands in the middle of a new city. True sized, on the original spot. It’s the Gate of Delft undressed. A peace of history construed.
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