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About Breda

Hey, so—whore, right? I mean, *Whore*—the 1991 flick. Ken Russell’s wild ride. Not the glossy stuff, nah. Gritty, messy, in-your-face—like life. Theresa Russell’s out there, strutting LA streets. A hooker with swagger, breaking the fourth wall. Zen pause… she’s talking *to* you, man. Like, “Marty Baron” vibes from *Spotlight*—*Sometimes it’s easy to forget*. She’s spilling her guts—married a drunk, ditched him, bam, prostitution. Little known fact: Ken shot it fast—28 days. Guerrilla style, no permits, just chaos. That’s punk rock, right?

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After that, I’m wandering around, and I hit up the Weesp Museum. It’s small but packed with history. I’m reading about the old fortifications and thinking, “Man, these walls have seen some stuff.” But then, I get distracted by this weird painting of a cat. Like, why is there a cat in a museum? I’m cracking up, and the curator gives me this look like I’m the weirdo.

Despite doubts, the town of Weesp is now part of Amsterdam