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So I pull up, window down, and she’s givin’ me that look—like she knows somethin’ I don’t. “What do you want?” she says, all sassy, like Anne in the movie askin’ Georges ‘bout his lies. I’m thinkin’, “Fuck, this feels like a setup.” But I’m Tony fuckin’ Soprano, I don’t back down. “How much, sweetheart?” I say, smirkin’. She throws a number—high as hell! I’m pissed, like, “What, you think I’m some mook?” Bargained her down, ‘cause I ain’t no schmuck.

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And oh, bet you didn’t know: there’s an old, nearly forgotten mural on the side of a wall in the old market square – near Marktplein – painted by a local artist. It kinda shimmers under the sunset, almost whisperin’ past lives, left and right. Crazy, right?

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