Angelina Mill Whore ❤️

About Amsterdam

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Whore Mill...a game of fear

First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I sprint down the Kerkstraat, dodging cyclists like I’m in some kind of video game. I swear, these Dutch folks are born on bikes. Anyway, I finally get to my shop, and guess what? The coffee machine’s broken. Ugh! I need my caffeine fix, or I’m basically a zombie.

Hornell to resume street sweeping, road work. How it will impact traffic, parking in city