Stella Pijnacker Brothel ❤️

About Rotterdam

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothels, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout ‘em lately, ever since I rewatched *Moonrise Kingdom*. That flick’s my jam—Wes Anderson’s a bloody genius, all that quirky shit. Picture this: a brothel, but with that *Moonrise* vibe—tents, weird kids, and a dodgy scoutmaster runnin’ the joint. “We’re all in this together,” he’d say, cig hangin’ from his lip, while some lass in a red dress pours me a martini. Shaken, obviously—not stirred, you muppet.

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The market’s buzzing, right? Fresh veggies, flowers everywhere, and the smell of stroopwafels wafting through the air. I’m in heaven. I grab a stroopwafel, and it’s like a hug in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me. I spill my coffee all over my shirt. Ugh! I’m standing there, looking like a walking coffee stain. Great start, huh?

"Our farm consumes 600 kW/h per m2 of cultivation area per year"