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About The Hague

Now, me, I’m picturin’ it all cinematic-like, Del Toro style. Fog rollin’ in, her standin’ there, sassy as hell, givin’ me that “What’s your offer, painter?” look. I’d be nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, thinkin’, *Bob, don’t screw this up, keep it chill.* Maybe crack a joke—“Wanna split a canvas, darlin’?”—but nah, she’d prolly roll her eyes. Realism check, Bob!

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The only reason to really avoid a neighbourhood over here is the way it looks and how that makes you feel coming home to it on a daily base.

Then, I see this street performer on de Korte Hoogstraat again. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s not half bad. I throw him a couple of euros, and he gives me a nod. It’s a small moment, but it makes me smile. I think about how music can heal, even just a little.

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