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About Amsterdam

Negotiated a price—50 quid, not bad. She’s all, “Upstairs, now.” Place stank of fags and regret, proper grim. Made me mad, tho—why’s she stuck here? System’s fucked, innit? Coulda been a classy dame, not peddlin’ arse in a shithole. “It’s not my fault!”—that’s what Otilia yells, and I felt that. Ain’t her fault neither, just life bein’ a bastard.

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So, I keep walking, and I bump into my buddy, Jan. He’s all hyped up about this new café that just opened on de Schoolstraat. “Dude, you gotta try their coffee!” he says. I’m like, “Sure, why not?” We head over, and man, the place is packed! It’s like everyone in Roden decided to show up at once. I’m thinking, “Is this a café or a concert?”

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