Sweet night in Amsterdam.

The Chinese takeaway.

He licked the chicken hole vigorously as well as seductively, he then laughed in a Chinese accent. 'Rice, rice, rice' he murmured into my ear. I gushed sweet and sour sauce everywhere.

My noodles were as wet as a oily fish swimming up stream into a cave, the cave was big and wide, there were plenty of spaces to fit some crabsticks.

What's that I hear in the back ground? It's my Chinese friends new roommate, Hans Eiffeltower. I hear his devilish smirk 'baguette, baguette, baguette' his voice cascaded my ears. His fromagé pieced together well with my southern cheese, as though it was a jigsaw made for us.