Violet Bladel Whore ❤️❤️

About Groningen

Oi, mate, listen up! I’m Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind you, but the whole damn vibe. Picture this: me, strollin’ through some gritty backstreet, neon buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest, and there she is—bold, brassy, a proper minx. Reminds me of Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, y’know? All chaotic, sexy, and fucked-up gorgeous. “Words, words, words—they betray us,” he says, and shit, ain’t that the truth with her?

Jouw perfecte look

Next up was Sarah. She was a bit more chill, but then she starts talking about her driving test. “I’m gonna fail, I just know it!” I’m like, “Girl, you got this!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Please don’t crash my car.” We hit the road again, this time on de Heuvel. It’s a nice stretch, but she gets distracted by the windmills. I mean, they’re cool and all, but focus, Sarah!

Love Letter To A Record: Hugo Bladel On Tommy Emmanuel’s ‘Only’