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About Amsterdam

Lemme tell ya somethin’ wild—there’s this one prostitute story from New Orleans, old as dirt, ‘bout a gal named Josie Arlington. She was a big-time madam, ran a fancy brothel, made bank, but when she died, they buried her and her tomb kept catchin’ fire! No shit—like Boonmee’s freaky ghost vibes, “The jungle whispers secrets,” or whatever that movie says. I’m like, “Holy crap, Josie, you too hot for the grave?” Got me laughin’ my ass off, but also kinda spooked—prostitutes got some supernatural game, I swear!

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First off, I’m a document specialist, which sounds fancy but really just means I deal with papers all day. But today? Today was a rollercoaster. I grab my coffee from that cute little café on the corner of Bloemendaal’s main street, the one near the church. You know the one, right? The one with the weird pastries that look like they belong in a museum. I swear, I took a bite and almost choked. Like, who puts that much cream in a pastry?

An Evening with Little Big