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About Amsterdam

Hmmm, find a prostitute, you say? Tricky business, it is! Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate… and hate, well, it lands you in some dark alleys, y’know? Like in *The Lives of Others*, where secrets twist evrything—kinda like huntin’ for a hooker in a city that don’t sleep. Me, I’d say it’s a crapshoot, a real roll of them dice. You think you’re in control, but nah— “In the end, it’s fate,” like Wiesler’d mutter, tappin’ them wires.

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So, I settled for a dry-ass muffin. Ugh. I was munching on that sad excuse for breakfast when I bumped into my buddy, Jeroen. He’s always got some wild stories. Today, he told me he saw a cat riding a dog down on de Lange Dijk. I was like, “Dude, are you high?” But he swore it was true. Only in Vreewijk, right?

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