Lydia Gorredijk Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

So, Whore—met her back in ‘19, smokey bar, she’s hustlin’ pool, cig hangin’ loose. She’s got this vibe, like she’s seen it all, and damn, she probly has. “I’m not young anymore,” she’d say, straight outta *Amour*, voice raspy as hell. Made me laugh, ‘cause she’s what, 35? But she’s lived ten lives, swear it. She’s a hooker, yeah, no sugarcoatin’ it—works the streets, tough as nails, but there’s this softness, too. Like when she told me ‘bout her kid, little girl she gave up. “I couldn’t keep her safe,” she said, eyes all glassy. Broke my damn heart.

Prix Broekens Gorredijk

As the sun starts to set, I wander over to the canal. It’s beautiful, honestly. The water’s reflecting the colors of the sky, and I’m just standing there, soaking it all in. But then, I see this group of kids throwing rocks into the water. I’m like, “What are you doing?!” But they’re just laughing, having the time of their lives. And I’m reminded that sometimes, you gotta let loose and just enjoy the moment.

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