Brianna Castricum Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

*Caché* vibes again—“What are they hiding?” Whores know, man, they *know*. They’re the tape droppin’ at your door, exposin’ shit. Once knew this chick—Jenny, total firecracker—worked the docks. She’d tell me stories, hilarious ones—like some lord pissin’ himself when his wife showed up! Had me crackin’ up, but damn, I felt for her too—cold nights, rough hands, no thanks given.

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So, I keep walking, trying to shake off the dog drama. I head towards the park, you know, the one near de Zanderij? It’s usually peaceful, but today? Nah. There’s a bunch of kids playing soccer, and they’re loud. Like, really loud. I’m trying to enjoy my croissant, but all I hear is “GOAL!” and “NO WAY!” Ugh, kids, am I right?

Heart beats: ‘SINK’ is Simona Castricum’s survival allegory