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Clarice… prostitution, huh? Dirty, messy world out there. Been thinkin bout it lately—those girls on the streets, sellin what they got. Reminds me of *Spirited Away*, ya know? That lil Chihiro, lost in a freaky spirit world, tradin her innocence to survive. “No-Face” gobbling up everything—kinda like the johns, eh? Greedy bastards. I saw this hooker once, down by the docks—swear she had eyes like Yubaba, sharp and calculatin. Prolly knew more bout life than me, and I’ve carved up plenty.

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the market at the Kerkplein. It’s buzzing, right? Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that jazz. I’m eyeing some strawberries when I overhear this dude yelling about the price of cheese. Like, chill, man! It’s just cheese! But nah, he’s going off about how it’s a “rip-off.” I mean, I get it, but c’mon, it’s not like they’re charging you for a kidney.

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