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About Amsterdam

So, say you’re huntin’ one down—maybe Vegas, best city, tremendous. You spot her—legs for days, attitude, real pro. You’re thinkin’, “Donald’d nail this deal!” But then—bam!—some jerk cop swoops in, ruins it. Surprised me once, ticked me off bigly! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Loser, back off my game!” Funny now, but then? Fumin’—like “the wind carries my rage” from the film.

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Finally, I get my charcoal, and I’m feeling a bit better. I head over to the park by the Bleiswijkse Plas. It’s a nice spot, you know? Kids are playing, dogs are running around, and I’m just soaking it all in. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me, and I drop my bag. Charcoal everywhere! I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” The kid looks up at me, all wide-eyed, and I can’t help but laugh. I mean, what else can you do, right?

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