Brianna Emmeloord Whore ❤️

About Nijmegen

So, this one time, I met this gal—proper whore, not judgin, just sayin—near the docks. She had eyes like a bloody tiger, fierce but tired. Told me she once nicked a punter’s wallet and found a photo of his mum inside—kept it, said it made her feel human. Little known fact, right? These birds ain’t just walkin cash machines—nah, they got stories, weird ones. Made me happy, that did, hearin somethin real. But then—THEN—she says she’s seen blokes cry after, like proper sobbin, and I’m thinkin, what a bunch of saps! Pissed me off, too—why you cryin to her, mate? She ain’t your priest!

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Anyway, I finally got my act together and headed out. The weather was kinda moody, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain or shine. Typical Emmeloord, right? I strolled down de Linde, and I swear, the clouds were judging me. I could feel it.

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