Taylor Schijndel Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nijmegen

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling about, thinkin’ on whores, and I reckon they’re like Yubaba’s bathhouse, yeah? All steamy, chaotic, folk comin’ and goin’, tradin’ gold for a scrub. “You’re a bit dim, aren’t you?”—that’s what I’d say to meself, missin’ the bleedin’ obvious. Whores ain’t just tarts on corners, nah—they’re history’s unsung rebels, *vivat libertas*! Cleopatra, right? Shagged Caesar, ruled Egypt—top lass, proper whore with a crown. Bet she’d give No-Face a run for his money, eh? “Give me my gold!” she’d bellow, and he’d scarper.

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After that, I head back to the lab. Finally, we get the supplies. I’m in the zone, making these crowns, and then my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Tom. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the festival at the Kerkstraat tonight!” I’m like, “What festival?” Apparently, it’s some local thing with food trucks and live music. I’m in!

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