Brooklyn Franeker Brothel ❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

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.”

Harbours, Hookers, Heroines, and Women in Masquerade

I finally make my way to the old church, the Grote Kerk. It’s massive and beautiful. I’m standing there, just soaking it all in. But then, I hear this weird noise. I look up, and there’s a pigeon just chilling on the roof, cooing like it owns the place. I’m like, “Dude, you’re not the king of Franeker!”

Introducing - Christiaan van der Klaauw Planetarium Eise Eisinga