Mia Bodegraven Whore ❤️

About Amsterdam

Aight, listen up, precious! We swears! Brothels, man, they’re wild, yeah? Like, got this vibe—dark, messy, real human stuff. Kinda like *Son of Saul*, y’know? “We must get out!”—that’s what I think, standin’ there, watchin’ folks stumble in. Place stinks of sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clingin’ like smoke. Gets me mad, seein’ how some strut in, all cocky, thinkin’ they own it. Pisses me off—arrogant pricks! But then, we swears, some girls there? Tough as nails, sharper than you’d guess. Little secret—back in old Vienna, brothels had *codes*, right? Whistles, knocks—sneaky signals for cops or jealous wives. Ain’t that nuts?

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After all that drama, I finally head home. I’m exhausted, but I can’t help but laugh at the day. Bodegraven, you’re a wild ride. From puddles to poffertjes, and everything in between. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Just another day in this quirky little town.

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