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About The Hague

I likes it, tho—wild energy, y’know? Reminds me of No-Face, all quiet but greedy. Some lass told me once, “Been here since 16.” Sixteen! Made me mad, precious—kids shouldn’t be there. But she laughed, said it paid better than slinging noodles. True story, swear it—brothels got dark roots. Back in Victorian days, they hid ‘em in basements. Secret tunnels, even! Rich blokes sneaking in, disgusting pricks.

A publicity stunt that crash-landed

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After that, I decide to hit up the local café, De Koffiehoek. Best coffee in Angelslo, no cap. I order a cappuccino, and while I’m waiting, I see this old lady struggling with her groceries. So, I rush over to help her. She’s super grateful, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s lived in Angelslo her whole life. She tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were all dirt and the market was just a few stalls. I’m like, “Wow, that’s wild!”

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