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About Amsterdam

What suprised me? How some o’ ‘em got hearts o’ gold under the grit. One lass—swear it—told me ‘bout her kid she’s feedin’ back home. “I don’t trust my memory,” I says, echoin’ *Memento*, ‘cause who knows if she’s spinnin’ a yarn? Still, tugged me heartstrings, it did. Me quirks? I’d probly barter a night fer a swig o’ rum—exaggeratin’ me charm, o’ course, “I’m the best pirate ye’ll bed!” Ha! Sarcasm’s me blade—cuts through the bilge.

Transport from airports

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Finally, I got home, and I was ready to dive into my work. But guess what? My laptop decided to crash. Like, really? I was so mad! I could’ve thrown it out the window. Instead, I just sat there, staring at it like it owed me money.