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About Breda

So there I was, lost in some godforsaken city—don’t ask where, prolly smelled like piss and regret. Needed a guide, not for mountains, but for... y’know, *company*. Streets twistin’ like that faun’s maze, eyes everywhere, judgin’. Found this lass, right? Skinny, eyes like Ofelia’s—haunted, but sharp. “Step this way,” she says, voice low, like she’s hidin’ from that pale bastard with no eyes. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild—half thrilled, half pissed at myself for even bein’ here.

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Later, I decided to take a break and walk along the canal. It’s so peaceful there. The water was glistening, and I thought, “This is life.” But then, I saw this guy trying to fish. He was all serious, and I’m like, “Dude, it’s Oud-Gastel, not a fishing tournament!” He didn’t catch anything, of course. I felt bad for him, but I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Theft of 1,400 kilos of cocaine behind series of explosions, shootings: Prosecutor