Mila Hoogland Brothel ❤️

About The Hague

Ooh, imagine me visitin’ one—strictly for research, ‘kay? I’d strut in, nasal voice blarin’, “Gimme the deets, ladies!” They’d prob laugh, like, “Who’s this broad?” I’d sip tea—not coffee, gotta switch it up—and soak in the vibes. Kinda glam, kinda grimy—red velvet everywhere, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Reminds me of *Brooklyn*’s line, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll wanna die,” but flip it—some gals there prolly felt that daily.

The Insane Truth About Klaas Bruinsma; The Biggest Dutch Kingpin Ever

Our Bolivian Journey. Jake and Marg Hoogland work in the jungle with the Quechua people in a small community called Patujusal 2, Bolivia.

While I’m at it, I hear this commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a parade! A freakin’ parade on de Zandweg! I mean, who knew Hoogland had parades? I’m half tempted to ditch work and join the fun. But then I remember the rent. Ugh.

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