Lucy Oirschot Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About The Hague

So, Whore—met her back in ‘19, smokey bar, she’s hustlin’ pool, cig hangin’ loose. She’s got this vibe, like she’s seen it all, and damn, she probly has. “I’m not young anymore,” she’d say, straight outta *Amour*, voice raspy as hell. Made me laugh, ‘cause she’s what, 35? But she’s lived ten lives, swear it. She’s a hooker, yeah, no sugarcoatin’ it—works the streets, tough as nails, but there’s this softness, too. Like when she told me ‘bout her kid, little girl she gave up. “I couldn’t keep her safe,” she said, eyes all glassy. Broke my damn heart.

Cookie-instellingen beheren

First off, I hit the streets of Oirschot around 8 AM. The sun was shining, and I thought, “Hey, maybe today’s gonna be chill.” I strolled down the Kerkstraat, admiring the cute houses. Seriously, they look like they popped outta a postcard. But then, bam! I stepped in a puddle. Like, who even leaves puddles in the middle of the street? Ugh! My shoes were soaked. Great start, right?

Obituary information for Frank Van Oirschot