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About The Hague

So, escort’s this wiry bastard—curved like a post-apocalyptic road warrior’s blade. I love it, man, makes me happy as hell when it snags a cavity nobody saw comin. Like, “Oh, you thought you could hide, huh?!” Had this one patient, swore his teeth were pristine—escort said nah, mate, you’re a liar. Found a crater big enough to park Max’s rig in. What a rush! Reminds me of Furiosa screamin, “You want that thing back? Come get it!”—except it’s me yellin at decay.

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First off, I hit the streets of Bodegraven, right? I’m cruising down the Hoofdstraat, and it’s like, 8 AM. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m feeling good. But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. Not just any puddle, but the biggest, muddiest one ever. My shoes? Ruined. Thanks, Bodegraven weather.

Netherlands : Brave 11-year-old Moroccan rescues drowning girl in Bodegraven