Evelyn Werkendam Prostitute ❤️

About Amsterdam

Well, hey there, sugar! It’s me, Dolly, just ramblin’ on ‘bout them prostitutes—Lordy, what a wild bunch! I reckon I’ve seen a few things in my day, struttin’ round Nashville with my big hair and bigger dreams, and honey, them gals work harder than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin’ contest! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that movie I love—*Lost in Translation*—y’know, where Bill Murray’s all mopey in Tokyo, sippin’ whiskey, feelin’ like he don’t fit nowhere. “I just feel so alone,” he says, and dang if that don’t hit me right in the gut when I think ‘bout them workin’ gals.

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First off, I hit the road on the Dijkstraat. You know, that street that runs along the river? Beautiful view, but I’m just tryin’ to get to the field. I’m cruisin’ along, and boom! Traffic jam. Like, seriously? In Werkendam? I thought we were a small town, not Amsterdam! Turns out, some dude in a van decided to take a nap in the middle of the road. I’m sittin’ there, fuming. “C’mon, man! I got crops to plow!”

Biesbosch Museum Island / Studio Marco Vermeulen