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About Groningen

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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Finally, I found my way back. We went to this place called De Zwarte Ruiter. The food? Amazing! I ordered a burger, and it was massive. I mean, I could’ve used it as a pillow. We laughed about my day, and I told him about the kid in the park. He said I should’ve taken a picture. I was like, “Nah, man, some moments are just for you.”

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