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About Sarpsborg

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

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I look over, and some dude just smashed his bike into a lamppost. Classic Voss, right? I mean, who rides a bike on a cobblestone street? It’s like, “Dude, you’re asking for it.” I chuckle, but then I see him limping. Not funny anymore. I rush over, help him up. Turns out, he’s a tourist. Go figure.

Bernadette Voss, 90, Albany, formerly of Hopkins