Lauren Giessendam Whore ❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

I walk down the Zandweg, and it’s a beautiful day. The sun’s shining, and I’m feeling a bit better. I pass by the park, and there’s this group of kids playing soccer. They’re yelling and laughing, and I can’t help but smile. Kids have this energy, right? But then, one of them kicks the ball too hard, and it lands right in a lady’s picnic. Oof! She’s not happy. I’m cracking up, but I feel bad for her.

Van Noordenne Nico, "A ‘new star’ in the pigeon sky!"