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About Eindhoven

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—yep, that smug bastard, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and all that jazz. So, let’s chat about findin’ a prostitute, yeah? Picture this: I’m skulkin’ through some grimy city, shadows twistin’ like in *The Secret in Their Eyes*—you know, my fave flick, all that tension and mystery. “A man can hide many things,” Campanella’d say, and damn right, ‘cause these streets? They’re hidin’ some wild shit. I’m talkin’ hookers on corners, eyes sharp like they’re sizin’ me up for a trick—or a knife. Mischief’s my game, so I’m lovin’ it, smirkin’ like a cat with cream.

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Back to the site, and guess what? The compressor’s back! I’m pumped, ready to go. I start blasting, and it’s like fireworks! But then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my shoulder. I freak out! I’m flailing my arms like a madman. The guys on site are dying laughing. I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a bird feeder!”

Dutch villa, which once housed nearly a thousand Van Goghs, under threat of demolition