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About Amsterdam

Alright, so I’m a detective, right? Larry David style—neurotic, ranting, all that jazz. And I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, y’know, like ya do. Whore! What a word, huh? Sounds dirty, cheap—like a gum-stuck shoe. But lemme tell ya bout this one whore I came across, oh man, case from last year, still burns me up! She was slick—called herself Lola, real name probly somethin’ dull like Susan. Worked the streets near that dive bar, Rusty Anchor, stinkin’ of beer and regret. Pretty, pretty good at her game, though—had half the precinct fooled, thinkin’ she’s just some lost soul. Hah! Lost soul, my ass.

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As I finally get home, I’m exhausted but happy. Vlaardingen was a whirlwind. I mean, who knew a day in the city could be so wild? From gum to pigeons to old stories, it was a rollercoaster. I love my forest, but sometimes, the city’s got its own magic.

Explosion prompts closure of home in Vlaardingen