Victoria Amby Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Almere

Oi, thou saucy knave, hark! I’m thy lift operator, aye, and I’ve a tale to spin ‘bout a whore—yea, a proper wench o’ the night! Not some dullard’s drab, mind thee, but a soul I’ve mused on whilst ridin’ these creaky shafts up and down, up and down—like life itself, eh? Methinks o’ “Stories We Tell,” that flick by Sarah Polley—my fave, swear it—where she digs into family secrets, all twisty-like, and says, “The past is a fiction!” That’s this whore, mate—a riddle wrapped in cheap perfume.

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"Sir, she called me a whore and also told me that,'I am a whore who want to be with you in your bed!'" I spoke shamefully. "Did you said that?" he.

Then, I head to my office on the Molenweg. You know, the one with the weird statue out front? I walk in, and my boss is like, “We need to talk about the new projections.” I’m like, “Ugh, can’t we just enjoy the chaos of Amby for a sec?” But no, we dive into numbers and graphs. I mean, I love my job, but sometimes it feels like I’m drowning in spreadsheets.

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