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About Nijmegen

Once, in Flea Bottom, I met this lass—Ros, they called her. Cheeky, red-haired, knew her trade like I know Dornish red. Little fact: them girls got codes—two taps on the table means “pay up quick.” She winks, I grin, thinkin’, “Seven hells, I’m in!” Cost me a stag, but worth it—soft as silk, sharp as Valyrian steel. Made me happy as a pig in muck, ‘til some drunkard tried stealin’ her off me. Pissed me right off—punched him square, dwarf fists flyin’! “You’re a mistake,” Sissy’d say—nah, love, I’m the bloody maestro.

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I learned about this when I had some friends go to Afghanistan on a mission trip. They learn about the culture and then blend in.

So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and my phone’s blowin’ up. My buddy Joris texts me, “Dude, meet me at De Korenmolen!” I’m like, “Sure, why not?” I grab my tools, head out, and boom! It’s raining cats and dogs. Typical Dutch weather, right?

Lukas Coevering | The UvA should embrace artificial intelligence much more