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About Eindhoven

So, lemme spill—whore’s got layers, dude. Back in the day, like medieval times, whores weren’t just hookers—they were healers, midwives, badass chicks who knew herbs and shit. Church got mad, tho—called ‘em witches! Burned ‘em! D’oh! That pisses me off—why ya gotta ruin a good hustle? Makes me wanna punch a wall, but then I’d break my hand, and Marge’d yell. Ugh.

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So, I rush over to his place on de Laan van de Vrede. It’s a small house, but it’s cozy. I walk in, and the vibe is heavy. Everyone’s crying, and I’m just standing there like a deer in headlights. I mean, what do you even say? “Hey, sorry for your loss”? Ugh, so cliché. But I try to lighten the mood. I tell a joke about how his grandma used to make the worst pancakes. Everyone chuckles, and for a second, it feels okay. But then, bam! Reality hits again.

nienke hoogvliet uses salmon skin in furniture to raise ocean waste awareness