Madison Selwerd Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Utrecht

So Theresa’s playin’ this hooker, right? Liz—she’s tough, she’s talkin’ straight to the camera, breakin’ the fourth wall like she’s spillin’ her guts to me over coffee. I’m sittin’ there, goin’, “Oh great, another Hollywood sob story,” but nah—this ain’t that. It’s dirty, it’s real, it’s like she’s sayin’, “You think you know me? You don’t know jack!” And I’m noddin’, ‘cause damn, she’s got a point. Ken Russell, that crazy bastard, he didn’t sugarcoat it. No “Pretty Woman” nonsense here—none of that “prince on a white horse” crap. It’s all johns, sweat, and bad vibes.

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So, I roll into Selwerd, right? First thing I notice is the streets. Like, what’s up with the names? You got the Van der Waalsstraat, and I’m like, who even was that guy? Sounds fancy, but I’m just here for some coffee. I hit up this little café on the corner of the H. de Vriesstraat. Best cappuccino ever! I mean, I’m a sucker for caffeine, but this was next level.

Final Selwerd flat nearly ready, for internationals only