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About Tilburg

Back in Miami, knew this chick, Candy—real name prolly Susan. Worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap perfume. Funny as hell, too—called her clients “two-minute heroes.” Laughed my ass off! But sad part? She OD’d—pills, man, fucked up. Texture of her life—smooth one sec, jagged the next. “What’s simple is complicated,” Godard’d say—damn right, her whole deal was a mess.

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Anyway, I kept walking, trying to shake off the weirdness. I hit the market at the Groenmarkt. It’s always buzzing with life. Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that jazz. I spotted this amazing cheese stall. You know me, I can’t resist cheese. I bought some aged Gouda, and let me tell you, it was heavenly. But then, I dropped it. Yup, right on the cobblestones. I was like, “Nooooo!” The cheese gods were not on my side today.

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