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About Tilburg

Great Scott! Imagine the smells—perfume, booze, desperation. Kinda like Wall Street, “money’s the bitch that never sleeps!” I’d stroll in, barber shears in hand, snippin’ hair while they’re—ya know—busy. Hilarious, right? Clip, clip, bang, bang! Once heard this story—Victorian era, secret brothel under a church. Preacher was in on it! Hypocrisy, man, gets me every time—fumes me up! But damn, clever hideout, gotta admit. Surprised me, too—thought those prudes were all hymns and no sins.

History of Amsterdam’s Red Light District

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But then, I got a text from my boss. “Need those proofs ASAP!” Ugh, the stress! I had to rush back home, but not before I stopped by the bakery on de Laan. I grabbed a slice of their famous apple pie. It was heavenly! I mean, if I could marry a dessert, it’d be that pie.