Isabella Veendam Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Eindhoven

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’.

Black Leather Paddle - Whore

First off, I’m cruising down the Hoofdstraat, thinking about my coffee fix. You know, the good stuff. But guess what? The café on the corner of the Markt is closed! Like, seriously? Who closes a café on a Tuesday? I was ready to throw a fit. I mean, c’mon, I need my caffeine!

Curtain falls: the European Hyperloop Center is open for tests