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About Amsterdam

Loved her vibe tho—sass for days, spittin at coppers when they rolled by. Made me happy, that fire in her! My precious! She’s no pushover, nah, got a glint in her eye like she’s schemin somethin big. Maybe she’s secretly loaded, hidin cash in them torn tights—ha! Exaggeratin? Maybe, but wouldn’t shock me. Prossies, they’re survivors, mate, tougher than nails.

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Rebel. Philosopher. Detective. A personal diary, thriller, murder mystery, social commentary, philosophy, and psychology all rolled into one.

So, I’m tryin’ to get my wool noticed, right? I’m shoutin’, “Fresh wool! Soft as a cloud!” But no one’s listenin’. Then, I spot this old lady on the Hoofdstraat. She’s got this huge hat, like, it’s a whole mood. I’m thinkin’, “If I had that hat, I’d sell wool like hotcakes!”

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