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About Amsterdam

So, picture this, right? Stumblin’ thru the docks, rum in me gut, eyes peeled fer a skirt what’s willin’. Ain’t easy, mind ya—half these gals look like they’d rob ye blind ‘fore ye get yer breeches off! Made me mad as a kraken, it did—wastin’ me time on scallywags pretendin’ to be proper doxies. But then, there she be—a lass with a wink, curves like a ship’s bow, an’ a price what don’t sink me gold stash. Happy as a clam, I was! “I am a free man!” I hollers in me head, like Solomon Northup breakin’ chains.

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Then, I hit the bakery on the corner of De Wetering. I can’t resist. I grab a broodje, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I spill coffee all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like a walking disaster. I’m trying to clean it up, but it’s not working. I’m just making it worse.

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