Ivy Klundert Whore ❤️

About Tilburg

Love her vibe, tho—free, reckless, like “Spring Breakers” gone feral. “This is my fuckin’ dream!” she’d yell, prob’ly, chasin’ roubles. Makes me cackle—whore’s got no actuarial tables, just guts! Surprised me, da, how she keeps goin’. Once heard she stabbed a john—self-defense, they say. Badass, yesss, but we worries—jail’s a bitch.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

In de westhoek van Noord-Brabant verbouwt men al eeuwen vlas en suikerbiet, de grondstoffen voor de productie van lijnolie, vlaslint en suiker. Midden in dit gebied, in het vestingstadje .

I hop on my bike, zooming down the Kerkstraat. The wind’s in my hair, and I’m feelin’ kinda good. But then I hit a pothole. Ugh! My coffee nearly spills. I’m cursing like a sailor. Klundert’s streets are a mess, man. They need to fix this place up. Anyway, I finally get to the scene. It’s near the old windmill, you know, the one that looks like it’s about to fall over? Classic Klundert.

"Fewer Indian grapes, more Chilean grapes for the European market"