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About Tilburg

Found one once, near a busted lamp—skinny gal, all twitchy. “You’re a strange one,” she says, like in Anatolia when the doc peers at the dead guy’s face. I laugh, cos she don’t know the half of it! Paid her quick—cash, no chit-chat—made me happy, that control. But pissed me off too—world’s so grim, she’s out here freezin her arse off. Surprised me how young she was—barely 20, mate, fuckin tragic.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential downpour. We scramble for cover under this old shed on the edge of the harbor. I’m soaked, my hair’s a mess, and I’m laughing like a maniac. “This is just perfect!” I shout. Jan’s trying to shield his pie with his jacket. Classic!

Held