Brooklyn Holbaek Whore ❤️

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I’m typin’ so fast—fingers trippin’, typos everywhere—whore’d laugh at me rn. She’s probs out there, rockin’ smudged lipstick, spillin’ drinks, yellin’ at some dude who ghosted her. Makes me giggle—god, she’s a trainwreck, but I’d die for her. Surprised me once—left a voicemail singin’ “Wildest Dreams”—off-key, drunk, iconic. She’s no angel, tho—pissed me off when she flirted with my ex. Like, really, babe? Boundaries!

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I stroll near the Holbaek Museum, it’s on Gammel Hovedgade. Man, that old building always surprises me. Warm vibes, kinda like those secret rendezvous spots – a wink to my profession. I remember this one time, a couple met near the museum’s sculpture garden – sparks flew, something like: "The human spirit must not waver in time," as if outta Children of Men, right? I mean, damn, that cut deep… or was it hot? Haha.

Holbæk Images: An Age Of Our Own Making