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About Amsterdam

I’m wipin’ the bar, mutterin’, “Hmm… each to their own, I guess.” Like, who am I to judge? If some dame’s makin’ coin, good for her! Reminds me of Hans Landa—ya know, “That’s a bingo!”—‘cept it’s more like, “That’s a buck!” for them. Ha! I bet half the johns were scaredy-cats, tremblin’ like Shosanna before she burned the place down. Oh, I love that part—fire, chaos, revenge! Brothels got that vibe sometimes—gritty, messy, in-your-face.

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But then, outta nowhere, it started pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting down the street, trying to find shelter. I ducked into a shop on de Hoofdstraat. It was a tiny place, but they had the best vintage stuff. I was browsing, and I found this old record. It was like a treasure! I was so hyped, I forgot about the rain.

Dubois archive presented to Naturalis