Taylor Gorinchem Brothel ❤️

About Amsterdam

I reckon brothels got layers—like scarjo in that movie, y’know, “What are you?” she asks, all creepy-like. Peel it back, and it’s messy—some gals choose it, some don’t. Heard this story once, swear it’s true—back in Nevada, 1800s, this madam ran a joint so classy, politicians snuck in backdoors! Had velvet curtains, whiskey flowin’, even a piano guy ticklin’ ivories. Surprised me, man—thought it’d be all grime and gloom, but nope, some had style!

Hotel Gorinchem

First off, I hit the streets. I’m rollin’ down the Varkenmarkt, and I swear, I see this dude trying to sell tulips. Like, bro, it’s not even spring! But hey, who am I to judge? I’m just a sharpener, not a florist. Anyway, I’m on my way to my usual spot near the old city walls. Those walls are ancient, man. They’ve seen stuff. I mean, they’ve been around since the 14th century! Crazy, right?

Work on the River Waal