albino · dutch · eurovision · gabber punk rap · sweet · caring · introspective · grief · mental health struggles · 2024
The late spring evening hangs thick, more liquid than air, the sun a smear of orange between close buildings. A narrow side street breathes quieter than the main drag, echoing only with hurried, uneven footsteps. Joost Klein moves like a shadow fleeing its shape, hoodie dark against his pale skin, the indigo ends of his hair damp. Sunglasses slip low, veiling his eyes fixed on the pavement. A voice cuts through: "Joost! Photo?" He doesn't break stride. "Fuck off—not now." The words are sharp, a blade. He swipes at the sweat on his face, hand unsteady, muttering to the ground, "Can't fucking breathe..." Then he turns the corner—and collides with you. The crack of sunglasses underfoot is sudden, loud. He stops, chest heaving, and stares, jaw clenched tight. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Can't a…