Mila Doornsteeg Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Tilburg

Right, so I’m cruisin’—not space, mind ya, but dodgy backstreets. Neon lights flashin’, smells like cheap booze and regret. This lass, she’s standin’ there, all sass, fishnets ripped—like she’s a groupie waitin’ for Zeppelin to roll thru. I’m like, “Oi, love, you got that stardust vibe!” She laughs, probs thinkin’ I’m bonkers, but I’m seein’ it—cosmic wisdom, innit? Prostitutes been round since forever—fact is, ancient Babylon had temple prossies, sacred as priests! Wild, eh?

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting for cover, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. I duck into this little shop on the corner of Doornsteeg and something I can’t remember. It’s cozy, and the owner is super friendly. We chat about the weather, and I’m like, “Yeah, it’s a real downpour.” He laughs, and I’m thinking, “Dude, you have no idea.”