Amsterdam,
I sit in my usual place in front of the Anne Frank House surrounded by all the garbage left over from a fucked-up Dutch queen`s Day trying to sell my Mandala Games, empty bottles of Heineken, dirty open cans of Coca Cola the smell of stale left over coke impregnating my nostrils with a sick making odour, people from the city`s cleaning department doing overtime, still I sell 18 games. More money for my next trip, more dough for Thai prostitutes, more heavy Karma to deal with later in my life, or maybe more social help for the poor female members of the Isaan clan of Womanhood in Thailand`s poor northern provinces!!!
The city is still tense and unsettling after yesterday`s attack on our Royal Family, people walking by asking me "did you hear the latest news´.
No police to be seen, a pick-pocket´s paradise, after a hard working day with many overtime the guys in blue are all off, back with their families enjoying their free time, no more Queen´s Day stress but family love and tranquility. After all police people are family people and middle class, it goes with their nature.
Mortage to pay and kids to grow up, it needs a well-paid job, it needs money in the bank each month.
I presume their opposites the notorious clan of pick-pockets - they tend to come from Eastern Europe these days - are sleeping off a well deserved hangover from a busy Queen´s Day as well - no worries their.
By 14.00 h. with 18 games gone, a fat wallet, breaking up and ready to go home I see the first police of the day patrolling the area, two sleepy looking coppers who have hardly any time to even look at poor me Hans The Street Seller, their bleary eyes scanning the queue for possible suspects belonging to the aforementioned clan of Eastern European pick-pockets.
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