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About Rotterdam

So, escort—makes me chuckle, it does. Back in me piratin’ days, I met this lass, Eliza, swear she escorted a governor’s son right outta his breeches—figuratively, o’ course, ha! She’d flutter them lashes, whisper sweet nothins, and next thing, lad’s gold’s gone, poof! Made me happy as a clam, seein’ her outsmart them posh fools. Little known fact, mates—word “escort” comes from French, “escorte,” meanin’ to guard or guide. Ain’t that a laugh? Guardin’ yer wallet, more like!

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As the day winds down, I head back to the water. The sun’s setting, and it’s beautiful. I’m casting my line one last time. I’m tired, but it feels good. I think about how Scharn’s got its quirks. The people, the streets, the fish. It’s all part of the charm.

"I saw them standing at the door: she had a small bag, he did too, and this timid young kid with just a tennis racket"