Maeve Axel Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Oi mate, so I’m a Kvasnik, yeah? Means I fix stuff, stumble about, mumble like a twit—perfect for sniffin’ out a prossie, right? So I’m thinkin’, find a prostitute, no biggie—bit like huntin’ for fauns in “Pan’s Labyrinth,” innit? That flick’s my fave—dark, twisty, Guillermo’s a bloody genius! Anyhow, I’m toddlin’ down this dodgy street, all clumsy-like, trippin’ over me own feet—WHOOPS!—nearly faceplant into some bloke’s kebab. “Careful, amigo,” I mutter, wavin’ me arms like a nutter. Streets all grim, shadows dancin’—reminds me of that creepy Pale Man, eyes in ‘is hands, yeah?

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, seriously? I’m in Axel for five minutes, and I’m already soaked. I duck into a shop on the Kerkstraat, and it’s this cute little boutique. I’m lookin’ around, and I see this shirt that says “Nature is my therapy.” I’m like, “Dude, that’s me!” So, I buy it.

Axel Vervoordt on curating the Onzea-Govaerts Collection