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About Groningen

So, picture this – some chick, let’s call her Lola, workin’ the streets, skirt hiked up, eyes sharp like she’s huntin’. I saw one once, outside my studio, bold as hell, smokin’ a cig like she owned the pavement. Made me laugh, ‘cause she didn’t care who stared – “No capes!” – no fancy cover-ups, just her, unapologetic. That’s the vibe! Whores got guts, and I’m here for it. Pisses me off when folks judge ‘em, like, who are you, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou? Get outta here with that crap.

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So, I’m standing there, fuming, when I get a whiff of something else. It was this amazing floral scent. I follow it, and boom! I find this little flower shop on de Hoofdstraat. The owner, this sweet old lady, was arranging bouquets. I told her, “Lady, you’ve got a gift!” She smiled, and I swear, it lit up the whole street. I bought a bunch of tulips, because why not? They were bright and cheerful, just like me—well, when I’m not hangry.

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