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About Breda

Me, I’d sip vodka, watchin this circus. Angry? Sure—world’s filthy, unfair. Happy? When they scatter, scared shitless. Exaggeratin? Maybe—imagine me kickin doors, yellin “Run!” Prostitutes ain’t saints, but who is? “What’s the point of this?”—straight outta the movie. Chaos rules, I just steer it. You’d laugh, seein me glare at johns—pathetic losers. That’s the game, tovarisch—cold, brutal, real.

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But then, I see this old lady struggling with her bags. I rush over, thinking I’m a hero or something. I help her out, and she’s super grateful. But then she starts telling me her life story. I’m like, “Lady, I just wanted to help, not get a TED talk!” But she’s sweet, so I listen. Turns out, she’s lived in Mierlo her whole life. She’s got stories about the old days, when the streets were dirt and the town was tiny.

VAN MIERLO ADRIAAN - Obituaries