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Little known fact—prostitutes in the 90s, some ran numbers too. Hustle on hustle, stackin’ paper under the table. She’d laugh, sayin’, “I’m my own boss, bitch!” Sarcasm drippin’, like, “Yeah, penthouse dreams in a motel.” Cracked me up, man, she’s a comedian in fishnets. *Memento* line fits her—“I have to believe in a world outside my own mind.” She’s livin’ it, trapped in her own loop.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud noise. It’s a bunch of kids on bikes, racing down the Zwarteweg. They’re screaming and laughing, and I can’t help but smile. It’s like, that’s the spirit, right? But then one of them crashes into a lamppost. Ouch! I’m torn between laughing and checking if he’s okay. He gets up, brushes it off, and yells, “I’m fine!” Classic.

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