You have walked past it. Whatever it is, you have walked past it — talking to somebody, looking at your phone, deciding what to have for dinner. Here is the game. I set you down in Leiden with your back to something. Look anywhere you like except behind you, then tell me what is there. Then I turn around. Five places, one after another. Some of them have four hundred years behind them and a bicycle parked in front.
Oh no. I have stood people in front of that building and told them exactly what it was, and every single time there was a bicycle leaning against it. Twice it was mine.
I go past that door at a run, with four hunters behind me. Nobody has ever looked up — least of all me. From now on I will slow down a little when I pass it, even if it costs me my life.
This is the whole game, and you have both just played it without opening it.