Mila Westervoort Whore ❤️

About The Hague

Pisses me off, tho—folks actin like they’re above it. Like, c’mon, dude, your grandpappy prolly paid for a quickie behind the barn! Hypocrisy gets my ghost blood boilin. But then—happy vibes—I respect the grind. Takes mad skill to dodge creeps, cops, and still pay rent. Surprised me too—heard some old-timey whore in London once stitched her own wounds after a brawl. Badass, right? No cryin, just, “Next customer!” Toni’s dad woulda loved her—prolly said, “That’s my girl, no bullshit!”

Woning in Westervoort drie maanden op slot vanwege illegale prostitutie

I sip my coffee, and life feels good again. I sit outside, watching the world go by. Westervoort is beautiful, man. The trees on De Laarstraat are turning colors, and the air smells like autumn. I see my neighbor, Mr. van Dijk, walking his dog. He waves, and I wave back. It’s the little things, ya know?

Fig. 2. Dorsal view of triungulin larva of Macrosiagon sp. on Nitela...