Emma Hellevoetsluis Brothel ❤️❤️

About The Hague

Brothels, mate, they’re old as dirt. Back in Rome, they had ‘em legal-like, called lupanars – wolf dens, ha! Howlin’ good time, eh? Makes me chuckle, them fancy lads struttin’ in, thinkin’ they’re kings. Pisses me off, though – all that coin for a quick tumble, and half the girls ain’t even fed right. Skinny as me, they are, starvin’ while fat lords guzzle wine. “What’s the point of living?” – like that bloke in the movie says. Grim, innit?

Hellevoetsluis

Anyway, I finally get to the office, and my boss is like, “We need to talk about the crop rotation.” Ugh, not this again. I mean, I love my job, but sometimes it feels like I’m stuck in a loop. Crop rotation, soil health, blah blah blah. But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s a message from my buddy, saying there’s a pop-up market at the Hellevoetsluis marina.

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