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About Rotterdam

Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

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By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. I flop onto my couch, thinking about the day. Dronten, man. It’s wild. One minute you’re sipping coffee, the next you’re dodging kids and fire alarms. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s my crazy little town, and I love it.

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