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About Mons

So, erotic-massage ain’t just a backrub, nah. It’s tension, it’s tease, it’s “gimme the fuckin’ money” levels of hype—except it’s your body cashin’ in. Little known fact: back in ancient Rome, them toga-wearin’ freaks had “massage parlors” where emperors got happy endings like it was Tuesday. True story, look it up—mosaics and all. Makes me mad, though—why’d we lose that swagger? Now it’s all sneaky, hush-hush, like we’re ashamed of a good time.

Red light district Alkmaar

Omg, I love the park at Het Zand! It’s the kinda spot where you can sit, breathe, and mend your heart a lil bit. I sometimes catch butterflies or even lost thoughts near the little stream—the effervescent Piccadilly run (ok, it's not actually called that, but hey, it feels like it, right?). Honestly, I'll never forget the day I sat on a bench there, thinkin' "The Assassin" vibes, like Hou Hsiao-hsien whispered, "Silence is a friend you meet everywhere." That really struck me.

Pieter Timmers Bio