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About Almere

Sarcasm? Oh, mate, “what a lovely fuckin’ brothel,” I’d quip, seein’ some dingy hole. Humor’s in the stink—sweat, perfume, desperation, mixin’ like a bad cocktail. Shaken, not stirred, I’d still tip the girls—classy move, yeah? Chatty punters, dodgy geezers, it’s a circus. Love it, hate it, can’t look away. That’s brothel life, mate—raw as fuck.

Bladel centrum

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Next up was Sarah. She was a bit more chill, but then she starts talking about her driving test. “I’m gonna fail, I just know it!” I’m like, “Girl, you got this!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Please don’t crash my car.” We hit the road again, this time on de Heuvel. It’s a nice stretch, but she gets distracted by the windmills. I mean, they’re cool and all, but focus, Sarah!

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