Abigail Eelde Whore ❤️

About Utrecht

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

BOOKING TYPES

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After that, I stroll over to the Eelderdiep. It’s this lovely little stream, right? I sit down for a sec, just to catch my breath. And then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and guess where it lands? Right in the water! I’m cracking up, but the kid? Total meltdown. I mean, it’s just a ball, dude! But hey, I get it. I’ve had my fair share of meltdowns over lost things.

Mayor warns of PFAS contamination near Groningen Airport Eelde