Busy as I was, walking along the fringe of Amsterdam, one day I encountered an unusual sight: at a distance a group of men that, emerging from a mass of dark matter, looked like rusted iron. They could barely be recognised through the clouds of what appeared to be steaming water.
As a matter of fact, when I got closer, I recognized that those men, handling oxyacetylene torches, were busy cutting in pieces the remains of a ship lying close to the coast of a river canal.