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About The Hague

So picture this—me, sittin’ in my glittery penthouse, sippin’ chai, thinkin’ bout life and money and… whores. Not literal ones, ‘kay? More like the vibe from my fave movie, *Werckmeister Harmonies*. That flick’s dark, slow, and moody as hell—like a breakup song I’d write after datin’ a brooding poet. And this “whore” thing? It’s givin’ me those same eerie, chaotic feels. Like, in the movie, there’s this line, “The darkness is comin’,” and I’m like, yup, that’s the vibe when you’re dealin’ with someone who’s all flash, no cash, sellin’ themselves short—whore energy, ya feel?

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Finally, I catch up to them near the old windmill on the Molenstraat. That windmill is iconic, man. I swear it’s got more stories than a pub on a Friday night. Anyway, I manage to round up my sheep, but I’m outta breath. I’m sweating like I just ran a marathon.

Carol VanDyken