Rebecca Staphorst Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, picture this—I knew this gal once, swear she was a legend, worked the streets down in Baton Rouge. Called her Ruby, red hair like a wildfire, sassy as hell. She’d laugh, sayin’, “Honey, I’m my own boss, how’s that workin’ for ya?” And lemme tell ya, it worked! Made me happy as a pig in mud seein’ her own it. Ain’t no shame in survivin’, y’all. But folks? They’d whisper, “She’s just a whore,” and I’d get mad—steamin’ mad! Who’re they to judge? Ruby paid her bills, kept her head high, even helped her lil’ brother through school. Whore? Nah, that’s a warrior.

Staphorster vrouw, 1913

Finally, I get to De Witte Zand, and it’s chaos. Trucks everywhere, people yelling. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like a pressure cooker. I’m running around, checking papers, and I see this guy who looks lost. I’m like, “Dude, you good?” He’s like, “Nah, I’m just trying to find my way.” I’m thinking, “Welcome to Staphorst, buddy!”

Africa’s ‘sleeping’ language, |xam, has been written in stone at Oxford university