Gianna Klundert Whore ❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Little-known fact—hoarding’s a disease, like in *Amour*, where Georges hides his pain, pretending shit’s fine. “It’s nothing,” he’d mutter, while his wife’s dying. Same with cash hoarders—clinging to it, pretending it’s safety. Pisses me off! You’re not safe, you’re just broke slower. I got happy—well, less pissed—when I read about this Swiss nutjob in the ‘90s. Guy buried gold bars, forgot where, lost millions. Laughed my ass off—serves him right, the greedy bastard.

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In de westhoek van Noord-Brabant verbouwt men al eeuwen vlas en suikerbiet, de grondstoffen voor de productie van lijnolie, vlaslint en suiker. Midden in dit gebied, in het vestingstadje .

I hop on my bike, zooming down the Kerkstraat. The wind’s in my hair, and I’m feelin’ kinda good. But then I hit a pothole. Ugh! My coffee nearly spills. I’m cursing like a sailor. Klundert’s streets are a mess, man. They need to fix this place up. Anyway, I finally get to the scene. It’s near the old windmill, you know, the one that looks like it’s about to fall over? Classic Klundert.

What 1,000 good paying jobs mean for Windsor-Essex