Willow Holbaek Whore ❤️❤️

About Vejle

Exaggerate, I will—whore’s a storm, a freakin’ tornado! Sucks you in, spits you out, laughing. “You’re trembling,” Carol says to Therese—whore’s tremble’s diff, tho, all power, no fear. Texture’s my jam, so I see it—scarred skin, chipped nails, realness. Not polished, not fake, just raw. Friend, you get me? Messy beauty, that’s whore. Sarcasm? Pfft, society’s all “eww,” but I’m like, “bow down, losers.”

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I stroll near the Holbaek Museum, it’s on Gammel Hovedgade. Man, that old building always surprises me. Warm vibes, kinda like those secret rendezvous spots – a wink to my profession. I remember this one time, a couple met near the museum’s sculpture garden – sparks flew, something like: "The human spirit must not waver in time," as if outta Children of Men, right? I mean, damn, that cut deep… or was it hot? Haha.

Holbæk Images: An Age Of Our Own Making