An old, dusty chair
I’m sitting in a old, dusty office chair, in a small room that belongs to a garage on the outskirts of Haarlem. Old flyers and documents are spread around the two tables and the top of the fridge in an unordely manner. The computer on the main desk seems to be made in the 70’s, and makes a rattling noise that confirms this theory. The vibe of the room feels like it hasn’t been cleaned for six years and needs a makeover worse than Rihanna after Chris Brown. If you try really hard, you can actually smell the dust here. Across from me sits a tall, thin guy of 24 years young. His blonde goatee reaches all the way to the center of his chest, matching the long, sleazy hears on the back of his head. Dressed in an extremely baggy hoody and equally baggy pants and with a continuously thumping bass thumping out the 70’s desktop, it’s clear that this man and his ‘office’ represent one thing and one thing only: Hiphop.
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