Abigail Uitgeest Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Hmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must. Favorite movie, mine is, “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.” Deep, it runs—like whores in my mind, past lives they got, maybe? Whore, a word, slippery it is, like eels in a swamp. Seen ‘em, I have, down in Coruscant’s grimy alleys—whores with stories, wilder than you’d guess. “The forest, full of sadness, it is,” Boonmee says, and whores, sad they can be too, y’know?

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So, we’re chatting, and I’m serving up slices of appeltaart to customers. Everyone’s loving it. I’m feeling like a rockstar. But then, I get a call from my supplier. “Uh, we’re outta flour.” WHAT? How do you run outta flour? I’m about to lose it.

‘I became a stronger believer in the power of Europe’