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About Utrecht

So “whore”—it’s old as dirt, right? Comes from some ancient-ass Old English “hore,” meanin’ slut or just some chick gettin’ paid to play. But it’s slippery, yo—shifts dependin’ on who’s yellin’ it. One sec it’s a job title, next it’s a fuckin’ insult sharper than a shank. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’—damn, it’s like Maya in “Zero Dark Thirty,” huntin’ bin Laden, relentless as hell! “I’m gonna break you,” she’d say to that word if it was a dude in a black site. That’s the energy “whore” got—gritty, unapologetic, takin’ no shit.

Red-light districts by city

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First off, I’m cruising down the Heusdenhoutseweg, thinking about my coffee fix. I mean, who can function without caffeine? Not me! I swing by that little café on the corner of de Kuilen. You know the one? The barista, Lisa, she’s always got a smile. But today? Ugh, she spills my cappuccino all over the counter. I’m like, “Really? Is this how we start the day?”