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I reckon it’s a trip—mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!”—seein’ these birds strut about, all glam, hidin’ the grind. Met this one lass, right, swore she escorted a rockstar once. Said he tipped her with a bleedin’ guitar pick! Mad as a bag of ferrets, that. Got me chuffed, though—imagine the stories! But then, there’s the dark bit—pisses me off somethin’ fierce. Some punters treat ‘em like dirt, thinkin’ cash buys soul. “The stone sinks in the lake,” like the movie says—ya can’t escape the weight, can ya?

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After that, I’m feeling a bit drained, so I decide to take a stroll by the Merwede Canal. It’s a nice spot, you know? I’m walking, enjoying the view, when I see this kid trying to fish. He’s got this tiny rod, and I’m thinking, “Good luck, buddy.” But then, BAM! He catches a fish! I’m like, “No way!” The kid’s jumping around like he just won the lottery. I can’t help but smile.

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