He was a very polite man with a moustache and accompanied by a young woman with dark frizzy hair. While the Thalys was sliding out of the station, people took their seats and arranged themselves. "Are you going to Brussells, too?", she asked the polite man; he nodded his agreement. "Please remind me to take all things out of the luggage rack before leaving the train, sometimes I will forget things when I am very excited."

Leaving Cologne, having a last look at the Cathedral, she fished out of her rucksack her very loved little book, Böll's Irish Diary, she wanted to read again to get into the right mood to be on the go to that unknown Island called Ireland, praised by former travellors.

She could not read in a very concentrated way, because she could not stop listening to the young people, who were talking, often using the words Ireland, Brussels Airport, Dublin and Achill Island. Now she was sure not to be travelling to this destination on her own; however, she asked very carefully: "Is it possible that you are going for vacations to Ireland, perhaps also by plane to Dublin?" And not only the young couple confirmed her question. There were some other passengers who had the same destination.

Wondering about these strange coincidences, people started to tell each other about the curios letter - how they got it, what made them travel to Ireland, .... The two hours to Brussells went by with a lot of talking and assuming that more people could be in this train having the same goal. Not only she had watched different groups on the platform, a man with a drum had been seen by the polite person, and now they made themselves known: "Andreas", "Sabine", "Barbara".