Sarah Doetinchem Whore ❤️❤️

About Eindhoven

Alright, folks, gather ‘round—here’s the deal. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, y’know, the oldest gig in town. Makes me chuckle, ‘cause—c’mon, man—who doesn’t got a story? Back in Scranton, we had this gal, Mary Lou, swear she was a “lady of the night.” Worked the corner by the old gas station. Folks’d whisper, “She’s trouble,” but—shoot—she was sweet as pie. Gave half her cash to stray dogs. Ain’t that somethin’? Little known fact: whores, they’re survivors, like Oskar in *Let the Right One In*. “Let me in,” she’d say, battin’ those lashes—pure street poetry.

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But here’s where it gets weird. I sit down, and this old lady next to me starts talking about her cat. I mean, I love cats, but she was going on and on. “Fluffy this, Fluffy that.” I’m just nodding, trying to sip my coffee without laughing.

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