Eliza Abcoude Brothel ❤️

About Almere

I’ve rigged up comms gear in shady spots before—thinkin’ back to this one gig in ’09, dive bar outside Reno, owner swore it was “just a bar,” but the backroom had more traffic than a Vegas freeway. Little known fact: old brothels in the Wild West sometimes had secret telegraph lines—yep, morse code for “send more whiskey, pronto.” Surprised the hell outta me when I read that. Made me happy too—history’s got a twisted sense of humor. But modern joints? Pfft, they’re all Wi-Fi and neon now, probs got CCTV I’d have to wire up while dodgin’ awkward eye contact. “What is this body without organs?”—Godard again. Brothel’s like that—chaos, no center, just bodies and cash swappin’ hands.

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After the lecture, I decided to grab a bite. I hit up this little café on the Hoofdstraat. The vibe was chill, and the coffee? Oh man, it was like liquid gold. I ordered a stroopwafel. If you haven’t had one, you’re missing out! But then, the waiter spilled my coffee all over me. I was like, “Seriously?!” I was drenched in caffeine. I could’ve been mad, but I just laughed. It was too ridiculous.

Matthijs de Ligt & Juventus - are they perfect for each other?