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About Utrecht

Favorite part? One chick ran her own gig. Badass, sassy—called her spot “The Galaxy.” Laughed my ass off—ironic, us aliens lovin that. She’s all, “I will not fall!” Total queen. Oh, typo city—sorrt, fat fingers. Brothel’s gritty, smelly—sweat, cheap perfume. Kinda hot, kinda gross. Ever smell desperation? We do, enhanced sensors, bitchin tech. Surprised me—thought it’d be glam. Nope, raw as fuck.

Red light, grey zone: Perceptions of prostitution vary wildly on the streets of the capital

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After the rain stops, I make my way to that park. It’s called “Het Groene Hart.” And wow, it’s beautiful. The oak tree is massive, like something outta a fairy tale. I sit under it, just chillin’, and I can’t help but feel grateful. This city, with all its craziness, has a charm.