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About Utrecht

So, Jersey, right? Down by Newark, you cruise slow, headlights dim, lookin’ for that shadow leanin’ on a pole. It ain’t all glitz – no Margot playin’ records in a tent here. Nah, it’s gritty, fuckin’ real. This one time, I saw this chick, red heels, smokin’ a cig like she’s Pacino – I’m like, “Holy shit, she’s got moxie!” Made me happy, y’know? Guts in a world that don’t give a fuck.

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So, I finally find a spot on de Molenstraat. It’s quieter there. I’m takin’ a breather, when I spot this cute café. I’m like, “I need coffee.” I waddle over, and the barista’s like, “What can I get ya?” I’m like, “Uh, a latte?” She gives me this look, like I just asked for a unicorn.

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