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About Amsterdam

Took me back to “25th Hour”—that raw honesty. Life ain’t perfect, neither’s this game. Fun fact: back in ’80s, cops ran stings with decoys—crazy, huh? Almost got nabbed once, swear! Surprised me, heart racin’—thought I was done. “Gotta make it count,” I think, Monty-style. So, I pay up, we do the deed—quick, messy, real. She’s gone fast, like smoke. Left me wonderin’, man—what’s it all for?

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I head to my favorite café, De Berenkuil. I’m craving a strong coffee. I walk in, and it’s packed! Like, what’s up with that? I just wanted my caffeine fix. I finally snag a seat, and guess what? The barista spills a whole latte on my lap. I mean, c’mon! I’m not a walking coffee table! I’m sitting there, half-laughing, half-yelling. The barista’s all apologetic, but I’m like, “Dude, I’m just trying to get through the day!”

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