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About Tilburg

Alright, so I’m a baker, right? And you’re askin’ me about flour—whore, I mean, flour! No, wait, whore. Dammit, brain’s all over the place, pretty, pretty good mess in here! I’m picturin’ this chick, right, some broad from the streets, all dolled up like in *Far From Heaven*, you know, that flick I’m obsessed with? “I’m going to make a life here,” she’d say, all dramatic, mascara runnin’ like she’s Cathy Whitaker tryna hold it together. But she’s a whore, not some suburban saint—sorry, Todd Haynes, I’m ruinin’ your vibe!

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First off, I’m cruising down the Waalstraat, thinking about my plans. Gonna check out the market at the Markt. But then, BAM! I hit a pothole. Like, come on, Zaltbommel! Fix your roads! I swear, I almost spilled my coffee. And you know how I need my caffeine fix.

Wandering with Suzanne