ondertussen in New York

So I opened the front door, and lo and behold there’s a mustachioed thief with my camera and tripod lifted freshly into his arms. I was livid, but before I could say anything, the guy thrust it into my hands and flew down the stairs (nearly breaking his neck) and out through the alley, mumbling “sorry sorry sorry” over and over again. All I could do was muster “don’t ever come back here again!” and stand there stupified, holding my stuff.

Lees verder hoe Justin bijna een Hasselblad armer was.