Aria Pijnacker Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, picture this—prostitutes, right? They’re out there, struttin’, hustlin’, makin’ ends meet. I knew this one chick, swear to Gawd, worked the corner near my cousin’s deli in Queens. She’d wink at me, all sassy, like, “Frannie, I got this!” Made me laugh, that Nanny cackle—HA-HA-HA! Total badass, but I was pissed too, y’know? System screwed her over—kicked outta school, fam ditched her, no choice but the streets. Pisses me off! Why’s it gotta be like that?

Vraag en antwoord

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I keep walking. I hit up the Pijnacker-Nootdorp train station. I’m waiting for my train to The Hague. I’m scrolling through my phone, and then I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some dude is arguing with the ticket machine. Like, bro, it’s just a machine! Chill out! But he’s going off, yelling at it like it’s a person. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who argues with a ticket machine?

Zuid-Holland warns 8 municipalities: Arrange asylum shelter, or we'll do it for you