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So, you wanna find one? Easy—cash talks, bullshit walks. Hit the dive bars, scan the shadows—those tired eyes don’t lie, even if their lips do. Me, I’d probably just mess with ‘em—ask dumb crap like, “You take Medicare?” Gets ‘em flustered. Anger in there too, muttering, “This is beneath us!” while Disgust chimes in, “Eww, her perfume’s a biohazard.” Gotta laugh, though—humanity’s a freakshow, and I’ve got front-row seats.

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After that, we head to the café on de Markt. I need a breather. Grab a stroopwafel and a strong coffee. I’m sittin’ there, tryin’ to process the chaos. Berghem’s got this charm, ya know? The cobblestone streets, the little shops. But today? It’s like the city’s gone mad.

Francesco Amura, author of The Bologneser