Lina Udenhout Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Utrecht

Real talk, tho—whore’s messy, beautiful chaos. Pisses me off when folks miss the point. It’s not just sex, it’s soul. It’s laughin at the haters, cryin when it hits deep. I’m obsessed—whore’s a vibe I’d die for. “What is this war in the heart of man?” Malick asks—whore knows, and she’s winnin it. Periodt!

Mega-brothels: Has Germany become 'bordello of Europe'?

Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

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