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About Utrecht

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, “I drink and I know things.” So, brothel, eh? Been to a few, seen some shite. Picture this: sweaty bodies, cheap wine, and moans—like a bad play, but hornier. Reminds me of *Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives*—y’know, that flick I bloody love. “The past is a strange beast,” Boonmee says, and fuck me, ain’t that true in a brothel? Every lass there’s got ghosts—some lord’s bastard, some war’s leftovers. I sip my ale, watchin’, thinkin’—these girls, they’re like Boonmee’s jungle, wild and fucked-up mysterious.

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Later, I decided to grab a drink at this little café on Schoolstraat. It’s cozy, you know? I order a coffee, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting, and she tells me about this art exhibit happening at the old church on Kerkstraat. I’m intrigued! Art? Yes, please!