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About Vaduz

I’m watchin’ her, thinkin’ *Holy Motors* vibes—“The beauty of the act!”—she’s performin’, playin’ the seductress, the lost soul, whatever they want. Makes me happy, sorta, ‘cause she’s ownin’ it, but then—ugh—some sleaze grabs her arm, and I’m yellin’ into my headset, “Back off, creep!” Surprised me how quick she flipped him off, tho—total badass. I’m over here, sippin’ coffee, mutterin’, “I’d pay to see that again.”

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Then, I hit up the local market on Kirchstraße. Man, that place is a vibe. Fresh veggies, local cheese, and the best bratwurst ever. I’m standing in line, and this lady in front of me is arguing with the vendor about the price of tomatoes. I mean, c’mon! They’re tomatoes! Not gold! But she’s all like, “I can get them cheaper in Vaduz!” I’m just standing there, trying not to laugh.

The Yellow Untitled by Sandra Keja Planken for Noun Amsterdam