As the train pulled into Utrecht Central Station, the city unfolded before Amani like a well-known painting: the deep red of the brickwork, the serene green of the canals, the orderly rhythm of cyclists gliding past. It was a scene of structured beauty, a world away from the vibrant, chaotic energy of home.
He had spent a month cocooned in the warm embrace of Kenya, surrounded by family, laughter, and the easy cadence of his mother tongue. Now, the crisp Dutch air was a sudden, sharp awakening, a clear signal that his holiday was over.
He was back in a world of different expectations and immense pressures, where his every move on the pitch and in his studies was scrutinized. While the culture shock of his return was a familiar jolt, this time it felt less disorienting.
He had used the quiet hours on the plane not to sleep, but to mentally prepare, building a bridge in his mind from the man he was in Kenya to the man he needed to be in the Netherlands.
