Rene in the laundromat

In the laundromat Rene has already finished doing the laundry and packed his things inside a black travel suitcase on wheels. I packed the dirty clothes and washing powder in the washing machine, inserted a token and hit the start button. He started speaking Dutch then English and we rolled on a nice discussion. 37 minutes: the counter estimated time till the end of washing.
'My parents were born in Poland. Somewhere near Lodz, I guess. They were Jewish. I was born in Germany.' He looked at me from beneath his small glasses. A 73-year-old artist, painter, traveler, four times divorced, father to two daughters - he advised me not to use black socks.
'They cause more infections than white socks' he continued and mentioned some diseases you can get in India, Indonesia, he mentioned Africa and didn't forget about Palestine and Iran.
'During the war I went to France and stayed in the camp until my mother got me out of there. Then we moved to New York. It was there I learnt to fight. Antisemitic society forced me to do so. So if I come across anyone who looks suspicious, I mean, he stops me and looks like that' (he looks at me with hostility in his eyes) 'that I know he doesn't want to become friends with me, I hit first because when you got a punch as a first one, you become weaker and it's over.'
Although he was in his seventies, he looked very fit, as Zampano would have looked like in that age. But it was really his grey hair that revealed his artistic soul.
'I worked for Andy Warhole, you know him? Before that I worked in different companies, in the advertising. One year I even changed my jobs 13 times! But than I decided to split and came to Europe again. In Belgium I witnessed a lot of antisemitism. Yes, it's true.' He confirmed when I expressed my disbelief.
'I started to earn money at very low age, 14 maybe? Before entering the secondary school...New York, you have to go there. The is the place, still it's New York. Spain? There are nice women, it's true, beaches, sunny weather but you can earn there only "beans" - Jews say that, only "beans".
I waited for the washing in the laundry and chatted with Rene. He was the size of Al Pacino, dressed in two black woman beaters put one on the other, the colour of the skin revealed the southern sun and sandy beaches somewhere in the Middle-East. His well-trimmed little mustache and grey, chaotic, uncombed hair got a tinge of Salvador Dali. 22 minutes to the end.
Whenever I have a chance to chat like that I keep wondering if what he says is true. But I am not interested in the truth of facts. Whether facts are true to the reality. The focus is on the feelings a man tries to convey through the facts. The emotions that correspond to the facts, not the facts itself. Whether he survived the war is not so important as how he expresses it - can he truly express what the fact of his being in a camp really meant to him. And can a spectator get a little feeling of what it felt like to witness that situation? Because what is really important is being aware of what the war was; the actual fact can be denied or obliterated from memory. However, people's feelings last longer and are deeper, thought-provoking. When you tell a story to someone better be convincing because it doesn't have to be true, the true are feelings behind it. The story reveals facts and emotions. We can see a sequence of thoughts that throw feelings - a man lower down his voice, his head, he closes his eyes then he comes closer and bursts out with happiness, pure at that moment, he clasps his hands and almost dances in the middle of the room. His eyes sparkle with contentment. The gestures, mimic and a word following a word - all that build a story. Maybe that's why I don't like to interrupt when someone speaks. 7 minutes till Rene leaves the laundromat.
'If you stay here, in Amsterdam, and rent a flat, get a digital TV. You get BBC, Dutch TV, and all that for 7 or 8 euro. And Playboy of course! But masturbation is not good...anyway...there are TWO porn channels available!'
He took his suitcase, we shook hands and said goodbye.
'Maybe we meet again or not'. 0 minutes to end the washing of unchecked facts, honest feelings. In the laundromat where the truth comes clean washed from the dirt.