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About Utrecht

So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

Transport from airports

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By the time I left the office, it was dark. I walked back through the streets of Zwijndrecht, feeling exhausted but accomplished. I passed by the old church on de Dijk, and it looked so peaceful. I thought, “Maybe this city isn’t so bad after all.”

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