Abigail Middelharnis Prostitute ❤️

About Almere

So, picture this—King’s Landing, stinkin’ alleys, right? Met this one tart, Rosie, years back. Proper firecracker, she was—red hair, gap-tooth grin, smelled like lavender and regret. Told me she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-shag, spent it all on a pet piglet. Called it Ser Oink. Fuckin’ legend! Little known fact—some prossies keep animals, y’know, for company. Ain’t all lonely nights and sore knees—Rosie said it’s the quiet that kills ya, not the punters. Made me happy, that—piglet snortin’ while she’s countin’ coppers. “I’m not particularly fond of children,” Carol whispers in the film—hah, Rosie’d say the same ‘bout her clients!

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Finally, I get through that mess and head to the fields near de Dijk. Man, the smell of fresh soil hits me, and I’m like, “Yes! This is what I live for!” But then, outta nowhere, my tractor starts makin’ this weird noise. Like, what the heck? I’m not a mechanic! I’m just a dude who drives a big ol’ machine. So, I pull over, pop the hood, and it’s like a scene from a horror movie. I see wires everywhere, and I’m like, “Great, I’m gonna be stuck here forever.”

David Hockney is ‘compellingly perceptive’ even though he may be wrong about perspective