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Happy? Nah, not really—kinda thrilled tho, sneaky vibe, like I’m in a film! Exaggeratin’ maybe, but picture this: me, Yoda-butcher, hagglin’ with a hooker, saber out, “Credits, you will take!” Hah, dumbass fantasy! Real talk—she smelled like cheap perfume, cigs, made me gag, but eyes? Tired, man, so tired. “Fight, we must,” I whisper, thinkin’ of the flick again—nobody’s fightin’ here, just survivin’.

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After that, I’m walkin’ down the Zandstraat, and I see this little café. It’s called “De Koffiehoek.” I’m like, “I need a pick-me-up.” I order a cappuccino, and the barista is this super chill guy. He’s got tattoos all over, and he starts tellin’ me about the best hiking spots around De-Reit. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a mountain guide! I know all the spots!” But he mentions this hidden trail I’ve never heard of. I’m intrigued.

Joseph F. Van de Riet | Obituary