Megan Staphorst Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Nijmegen

This one gal, she’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall. Eyes sharp, like she’s sizin’ me up. Reminds me of Dennis Haysbert in the movie—quiet, knows too much. “What’s your name, doll?” I grunt. “Candy,” she says, smirkin’. Candy! Hate cutesy names. But she’s got grit, no tears, no “I can’t go on” nonsense. Straight to business—respect that. Told her, “Keep it quick, I got wood to chop.” She laughs, husky, real. Surprised me—thought she’d be all fake giggles.

SOME OF OUR PARTNERS & FUNDERS

Next, I head over to the Kerkweg. I need to grab some lunch. I find this little café, and it’s packed. I’m like, “Seriously? In Staphorst?” But I get a table, and the food is bomb. I order a broodje kroket, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sitting there, munching away, and I can’t help but think, “This day is nuts, but at least the food is good.”

Contemporary fashion exhibition premieres at Dutch Costume Museum