Isabella Oud Turnhout Whore ❤️

About Ghent

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down the street, mindin’ my own business, and I see some lady, probs a whore, struttin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. And I’m like, “Good for you, sister!” But also, “Get outta my way!”—I got places to be! It’s this mix of respect and annoyance, y’see? Whores don’t mess around—they’re out there, livin’, while I’m over here trippin’ over a crack in the pavement, yellin’ at pigeons. Pisses me off how they got that confidence, that *swagger*. Where do I sign up for that? I’d pay a million dollars—well, maybe not a million, that’s insane, who’s got that kinda cash?—but you get me.

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Me, I sometimes run barefoot in the mud near the nature reserve of 't Zand, cares not for the cold, oh no! It be a touch of wild madness, natural and free, a reminder that every part of us be connected. And sometimes, when sunset fights with the daylight on the Watertoren's silhouette, I stops, gazing, we sucks in the moment, like lost time in a film, precious, like Zodiac’s endless chase, we does it, we loves it, we hates it too!

Long prison sentences for ten drugs criminals