Claire Poeldijk Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

Publiek geheim

Vijf jonge misdienaars werden in de jaren 60 misbruikt door een pater in een katholiek bejaardenhuis in Poeldijk. Vier slachtoffers pleegden zelfmoord.

So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and the sun’s shining like it’s tryin’ to blind me. I grab my coffee from that little café on de Laan van de Kruidtuin. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ it, and boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Jeroen. He’s like, “Dude, meet me at the park!”

Aardwarmte Vogelaer plans second geothermal installation in Netherlands