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About Amsterdam

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

En cours de diffusion

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After that, I decide to hit up the local café, De Koffiehoek. Best coffee in Angelslo, no cap. I order a cappuccino, and while I’m waiting, I see this old lady struggling with her groceries. So, I rush over to help her. She’s super grateful, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s lived in Angelslo her whole life. She tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were all dirt and the market was just a few stalls. I’m like, “Wow, that’s wild!”

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