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About Breda

Amélie’s eyes, so big, so kind. Sees beauty, she does. Prostitute’s eyes? Tired, man. Seen too much, they have. “What you do, you become,” Yoda’d say. Tricks turnin’, cash flowin’. Met one once—Lola, her name. Smiled, she did, but hollow, it was. Broke my heart, dude. Happy? Nah, not her. Surprised me—tough as nails, she was. Carried a tiny knife, badass! Said, “Gotta live, y’know?” Respect, I gave her. Hustle, she did.

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After that, I decide to take a stroll by the canal. You know, the one that runs through the center? It’s pretty chill there. I’m just vibing, when I spot this old lady feeding ducks. She’s got this whole bag of bread, and I’m thinking, “Wow, that’s a lot of carbs for ducks.” But then, she starts talking to me about the history of Bodegraven. Apparently, it used to be a big deal for cheese. Who knew? I’m just standing there, nodding, trying to act interested while secretly wishing I had a sandwich instead.

Veni grant for two researchers at UMC Utrecht