Willow Bodegraven Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, them gals in Russian Sign Language—da hands flyin’ like missiles! Whore, see, it’s a word, gets folks riled up, makes me madder’n a wet hen. I reckon it’s ‘cause it’s slung ‘round like mud on a pig farm. Fool me once, shame on—uh, you know, shame on somebody! Can’t fool me twice, no siree, I’m sharp as a tack—well, maybe a dull one.

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So, I keep walking, and I hit the local market. Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that good stuff. I’m eyeing some strawberries when this guy starts haggling like he’s at a flea market. “I’ll give you two euros for a kilo!” I’m like, “Bro, chill. It’s not a bidding war.” But the vendor just rolls his eyes.

Hannah would go into mission work, but died on a holiday