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About Almere

Still, Ruby had grit. Once saw her haggle a dude up fifty bucks, laughin’ like a hyena. Happy moment, rare as a unicorn. Hate admittin’ it, but I admired her. Not enough to join her trade—screw that, I’d rather eat kale. “Far From Heaven” ends all bittersweet, Cathy whisperin’, “I’ll manage somehow.” Ruby’s the same—beat down, but kickin’. Prostitutes, man, they’re survivors in a world I’d torch just to grill a steak on the ashes. Hate everything, but them? Tolerable. Barely.

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Anyway, I finally make it to the job site. It’s on the outskirts, near the old train station. You know, the one that looks like it’s straight outta a movie? I’m pumped. I start blasting away at this rusty old fence. The sound? Pure music. But then, outta nowhere, my buddy Jeroen shows up. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what happened at the market!”

Jean-François van Boxmeer