The record shop
Behind the new Central Station time has stopped. Wandering through the narrow streets, you can see a glimpse of the old Rotterdam. In one of the buildings, ones used for dairy production, the daily rhythm cracks. On the corner you find the shop of Hans Second-hand, a music palace for collectors.
It’s one of those shops, unknown but beloved. Records reach far up to the ceiling, books piled up in towers. Looking for something specific can take ages; it’s better to ask the owner. Odd as it might seem, for Hans it’s all in place. Every record it’s own sound, every book it’s own voice.
It’s an old fashioned shop, no bullocks or show off. Just a lot of music, made to touch the listener. You think back, inhale the scent deeply. How long ago did you buy your first album?