Out in Amsterdam there is a hostel called the Golden Apple. Every night it is packed floor to ceiling with backpackers from around the world, who listen to a great DJ, eat good food, drink amazing beer, and generally party until they pass out in one another's beds.
The whole house is a riot of sound and color except for the roof. On the roof is a little zen garden; the center piece of a quiet oasis, and in the shade of a tree is a hammock and a little monk who dispenses wisdom distilled from madness.
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