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About Rotterdam

I sidle up to her, all cool, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs, says, “In here? You’re mad.” I’m lovin it—her sass, her vibe. Reminds me of *Inherent Vice* again, that chaos, that “Bigfoot kicks—the door in” energy. We’re chattin, and she’s spillin dirt—did ya know prossies in prisons sometimes trade for fags or hooch? Wild shit. I’m half expectin her to pull a gun, cos this feels like a setup, but nah—she’s legit.

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Here you will get your money's worth if you are looking for models in nudist clubs or a brothel in Gennep. Also numerous sauna clubs invite you to erotic hours.

Then I decide to take a stroll down the Markt. It’s buzzing, people everywhere. I’m dodging kids on bikes, old folks with their dogs, and this one guy who’s just... standing there, staring at a statue. I mean, it’s a statue, bro. Get a life! But whatever, I’m vibing.

Liminal spaces can be transformative.