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About Rotterdam

So, findin a prostitute ain’t easy in this shithole. You’d think, “Oh, Bond, just flash that charm,” but nah—these walls got eyes, and the screws are uptight pricks. I’m pissed off already, cos one guard, fat bastard called Jenkins, keeps yappin bout “morals.” Morals? In here? Fuck off, mate. I’m tryna get laid, not save the world. Reminds me of that line, “Sorta like—walking on the beach,” but it’s more like dodgin shivs and snitches.

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So, I grab my drink and head to the market on the Markt. It’s buzzing, people everywhere. I’m dodging strollers and old folks like I’m in some kind of obstacle course. I spot this vendor selling fresh stroopwafels. I can’t resist. I buy one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me, and my stroopwafel goes flying! I’m standing there, mouth agape, watching it land on the ground like it’s in slow-mo. I’m like, “Nooooo!”

Dad dying was worst that can happen to a kid... but now I know I can handle anything HAKIM ZIYECH