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About Amsterdam

We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

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Anyway, I finally grab some Boskoop apples. They smell amazing, like sweet heaven. I’m feelin’ good, right? But then I see this old lady, Mrs. Jansen, struggling with her bags. So, I help her out. She’s super grateful, bless her heart. But then she starts talking about her cat, Momo. I’m like, “Lady, I’m a Nose, not a cat therapist!” But I smile and nod. Gotta keep the peace, ya know?

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