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About Utrecht

Still, it’s a mess, findin’ one. We hates it! Too many fakes—catfishin’ worse than a Tinder swipe. Reckon Wes Anderson’d make it pretty, all pastel pinks, but real life? Muddy, mate. Oh, and the coppers—always sniffin’ ‘round, like that nosy concierge, “What is the meaning of this?!” Bust a prossie ring near me flat once—17 of ‘em, lined up, cuffed! Mad sight, that.

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

Anyway, the rain stops, and I head to the exhibit at the old school on de Schoolstraat. It’s a small place, but the art is dope. I’m wandering around, checking out the pieces, and I see this one that just hits me. It’s a painting of the old harbor. I grew up around there, and it brought back all these memories. I’m standing there, feeling all the feels, when suddenly, I trip over my own feet. Classic me, right?

Dutch court convicts identical twin of rape based on unique DNA investigation