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About Tilburg

Drove my ol’ escort to church once, stalled mid-prayer—embarrassing! Laughed my butt off tho, “Hmm… figures!” Quirky lil beast, broke down tons, but cheap fixes—thank God! Exaggeratin here, but felt like it ran on hopes n’ dreams. “Survive or die,” I’d mutter, kickin the tire. Pure chaos, pure love—escort’s my kinda mess! Whaddya think, pal?

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First off, I hit up the local café on Hoofdstraat. Best coffee in town, no joke. I ordered my usual—double espresso, extra shot. The barista, a dude named Joris, was all smiles. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my croissant! Like, seriously? I’m just tryin’ to enjoy my breakfast, and this feathered thief decides to make me his breakfast. I was fumin’! I yelled, “Hey! Get your own food, ya punk!” But the bird just looked at me like, “What’s your problem, human?” Ugh, so annoying.

Jeff Broekhoven: A painter plots his course