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About Amsterdam

But—ugh—then there’s the pricks who run ‘em. Pimp bastards, all greasy and grabby. One tried chargin’ me double ‘cause I’m “Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister.” Told him, “I drink, I don’t get fleeced!” Nearly took me dagger to his balls—shoulda, the twat. Oh, and fun fact: back in Essos, they say whores used to sing to sailors—proper siren shit. Dunno if it’s true, but Lysa hummin’ while she worked? Closest I’ll get to a mermaid, ha!

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After that, I decide to take a stroll through the park on de Kloosterstraat. It’s kinda nice, you know? Trees everywhere, and the smell of wet grass. But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past me and splashes mud all over my jeans. I’m standing there, looking like a walking disaster. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!”

Joanne Olsen Losser