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About Amsterdam

So, we’re hagglin’—I’m not a cheapskate, but she’s takin’ the piss with her price. “For you, love, a discount,” she winks, and I’m chuffed again. Ain’t just business, it’s a dance—suave, sharp, a bit dirty. I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, 007, you’re in deep,” but I love it—the thrill, the edge, the “why not?” of it all. “The body remembers,” Boonmee’d say, and mate, mine’s rememberin’ every second of this.

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Then I hit up this little café on the corner of the Korte Haven. I order a koffie verkeerd. It’s like a latte, but better. I sit outside, soaking in the sun. Life’s good, right? But then, this pigeon swoops down and tries to steal my croissant. I’m like, “Dude, back off!” I swear, these birds have no respect.

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