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But real talk—makes me sad too. Some of ‘em, they’re trapped, dahling. “The heart is a lonely hunter,” like in the movie. Stuck in a cycle, no fancy slow-mo exit. Pisses me off—why’s the world gotta be so cruel? I’d dive in, save ‘em all, but nah, I’d probs just get sued. Ugh, reality sucks.

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

Acta Paediatrica | Paediatrics Journal