In the weeks and months after the exhibition, both men adjusted the lines of their lives. Youri began taking a class in sound editing, joining Stefan in collecting field recordings. They started a small community radio segment that highlighted overlooked stories of Tilburg: an immigrant baker who kept a recipe book in three languages, a retired tram driver who could name every stop in cadence, teenagers starting an underground zine.
They paused beneath an awning while rain began, soft and steady. Stefan smiled. “There’s a show next month,” he said. “Bring your recorder.” youri van willigen stefan emmerik uit tilburg
Stefan smiled, the kind that carries a history. “Every reunion promises something it can’t keep. But I have recording projects. There are young musicians in Tilburg who need someone to make noise with them.” In the weeks and months after the exhibition,
Stefan clasped his shoulder. “Whatever you choose,” he said, “don’t let the decision be about fear of missing out. Let it be about what you want to come back to.” They paused beneath an awning while rain began,