i wandered about amsterdam for hours , purloining some thick parchment writing paper of the kind i most like , and a fine-pointed pen of the automatic kind that spews black ink forever , and then i sought a noisy sinister little tavern in the old red-light district with its painted women and drugged vagabond youths , where i could work on a letter to david , unnoticed and undisturbed as long as i kept a mug of beer at my side .