Anna Dokkum Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Anyways, I’m ramblin’—whores fascinate me, tho. They’re raw, real, messy. Not some polished Barbie doll crap. They’re out there, survivin’, like Szpilman whisperin’, “I’m still here.” Makes me wanna cheer, cry, punch somethin’—all at once. So yeah, whores? Badass. Misunderstood. Kinda like me after a third martini. “I can see Russia from my house!”—and whores from my heart. Peace out!

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So, I wake up early, like, way too early. The sun’s barely peekin’ over the rooftops. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be a breeze.” Ha! Little did I know. I grab my coffee from the local café on de Dijk. Best coffee in town, no joke. I’m sippin’ it, feelin’ all fancy, when I hear this loud honkin’. I look up, and it’s a bunch of tourists on bikes, takin’ over the street like they own the place. I’m like, “Yo, this ain’t Amsterdam!”

Glints of eternity in a dragonfly's wings