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About Amsterdam

So I’m stewin’, right? Angry as hell—why’s this gotta be so complicated? Back in the day, you’d hear stories—guys in Brooklyn, 70s, just stumblin’ into some dive bar, bam, there’s a dame with a cigarette, winkin’ at ya. Now? Now it’s all encrypted chats and “discreet encounters”—what am I, a spy? I’m not cut out for this! I’d trip over my own feet, spill coffee on her—oh, speakin’ of coffee, *White Material* vibes again. “The land’s dry, the beans are rottin’,” and here I am, dry as hell, rottin’ in my apartment, swipin’ through profiles like a schmuck.

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So, I finally make it to the park near the De Meern train station. It’s a nice spot, you know? Trees everywhere, kids playing, and I’m just trying to relax. But then, outta nowhere, this kid starts crying. Like, full-on wailing. I’m thinking, “What’s going on?” Turns out, he lost his ice cream. I mean, I get it, that’s a tragedy. But come on, kid, it’s just ice cream!

Fig. 3. Distribution map of Late Roman fortifications in Germania...