Isabelle Dapperbuurt Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Geschiedenis

First off, I’m running late. Like, classic me. I spill coffee all over my favorite shirt. Ugh! It’s a Monday, and I’m already feeling the Monday blues. I rush out, dodging cyclists on the Wibautstraat. Those guys are like ninjas, I swear. One almost took me out!

Business as usual in Amsterdam neighborhood after explosion at coffeeshop