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About Nijmegen

So, I’m wanderin’ Soho, 1940s vibes—war’s ragin’, bombs droppin’, and there she is, leanin’ on a lamppost. Skirt hiked up, eyes sharp as a bayonet. “Lost, love?” she says, smirkin’. I’m fumin’—not at her, nah, at the world! Blokes usin’ her up, tossin’ her like rubbish. Makes me wanna roar, “We shall never surrender!” But I chill, cos she’s got that spark—like Ofelia’s stubborn hope.

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The market is buzzing! I mean, it’s packed. People everywhere, shouting, laughing, and there’s this smell of fresh stroopwafels wafting through the air. I’m drooling. I grab one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see it. A guy selling these ridiculous fur hats. I’m talkin’ like something outta a cartoon. I can’t help it; I start laughing.