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About The Hague

Oh, and the cost—don’t get me started! Hundreds, sometimes thousands—thousands! I’d be happy spendin’ ten bucks on a sandwich, but this? Robbery! Pretty, pretty bad deal, if ya ask me. And the risks—cops, creeps, STDs—yikes! I’d be poppin’ Xanax like candy, sweatin’ bullets. But then—little secret—some old brothel in Nevada, they say Bonnie and Clyde hid there once. Cool, right? History and hookers, two-for-one special!

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Anyway, the rain stops, and I head to the exhibit at the old school on de Schoolstraat. It’s a small place, but the art is dope. I’m wandering around, checking out the pieces, and I see this one that just hits me. It’s a painting of the old harbor. I grew up around there, and it brought back all these memories. I’m standing there, feeling all the feels, when suddenly, I trip over my own feet. Classic me, right?

Dutch glass manufacturing site declared bankrupt