Eliza Delfzijl Whore ❤️❤️

About Utrecht

Me, tho? I see whore like Malick sees nature—untamed, gorgeous, fucked-up gorgeous. “The trees… they speak!”—that’s whore to me, whisperin secrets, screamin lust. Gets me all hyped, thinkin bout how it’s more than just sex, y’know? It’s power, rebellion—shit, even survival. Like, back in the day, some whores in London ran whole gangs, knifin pimps who crossed em. Bet ya didn’t know that, huh? Fuckin blows my mind—makes me wanna cheer, punch a wall, somethin!

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After the fire drill (which was a false alarm, of course), I decided to take a break. I strolled down to the harbor. The view of the Eems estuary is just stunning. I mean, you can see the ships coming in and out, and the sun was peeking through the clouds. For a sec, I forgot about the chaos. Just me, the water, and the seagulls squawking like they own the place.

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