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About Eindhoven

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, yeah? Head of this mad lab, staring down the world like it’s mine to burn. And you wanna know bout whores? Fine, I’ll spill it—cold disdain dripping off me like wine on silk. “I choose violence,” I’d say, if one of those cheap tarts crossed me wrong. Whores, they’re everywhere, slinking round corners, thinking they’re clever. Reminds me of *25th Hour*—you know, my fave flick, Spike Lee’s gritty mess. Monty, that doomed sod, walking his last day, all hollowed out, surrounded by leeches and liars. Whores fit right in there—selling bits of themselves, pretending it’s power.

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First off, I wake up late. Like, super late. My alarm? Totally betrayed me. I jump outta bed, throw on my old boots, and dash out the door. I live near the Markt, so I’m sprinting down the street, dodging cyclists like I’m in some weird video game. Oldenzaal’s streets are wild, man. You got the Langestraat buzzing with shops, and then there’s the cozy little cafes on the Hoofdstraat. I love it here, but today? Ugh.

Lazio Can’t Be Counted Out in Race for Retegui