Layla Uitgeest Brothel ❤️❤️

About Utrecht

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially frilly nonsense. So, brothels—let’s talk ‘em. Been around forever, right? Oldest gig in the book. I’m a kvasnik, craftin’ stuff, makin’ barrels, but brothels? That’s a whole other beast. Saw one once, shady joint, stank of cheap whiskey and regret. Made me mad—folks sellin’ themselves like that. Hate it. “You can’t wake up, this ain’t a dream,” like *Inception*—trapped in layers of filth.

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Anyway, I drag myself to the bakery on de Zwarteweg. The smell of fresh bread is my jam, but today? Today was different. I open the door, and BAM! The oven’s broken. Like, seriously? It’s a Monday! I’m already cranky. I mean, who breaks an oven on a Monday?

Agnes Elizabeth Wouterloot (nee O'Neill)