When I entered the dike house of former presenter Hans van der Togt in Achlum in the summer of 2016, I had no idea how dazed I would drive back in the car towards the Afsluitdijk three hours later. He turned out to be astonishingly honest. So much so that he painted me a picture of aging as a single gay man that left me thinking in silence all the way home. About him, but also about myself.
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