Makayla Abcoude Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

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I felt a bit jealous, ngl. But then Jeroen started talking about his art. He mentioned the old windmill on the edge of town, the Molen van Abcoude. He said it inspired him. I was like, “Wow, that’s kinda deep.” I mean, who knew a windmill could spark creativity? I was ready to take notes!

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