I will always remember Bruges. For several months in 1966 I walked, almost every day, on the neatly paved cobblestone paths of this old Flemish town, where the past came to us and we became its guests. Each day, people drank their coffee, the newspaper boy went on his daily rounds, the streets gathered pace, buses resumed their duties, yet all such 20th century normalcy were linked with that which gave this town its pulse: the p