Aria Westervoort Whore ❤️❤️

About The Hague

Exaggerate, I will—whore’s a storm, a freakin’ tornado! Sucks you in, spits you out, laughing. “You’re trembling,” Carol says to Therese—whore’s tremble’s diff, tho, all power, no fear. Texture’s my jam, so I see it—scarred skin, chipped nails, realness. Not polished, not fake, just raw. Friend, you get me? Messy beauty, that’s whore. Sarcasm? Pfft, society’s all “eww,” but I’m like, “bow down, losers.”

Geschiedenis

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I sip my coffee, and life feels good again. I sit outside, watching the world go by. Westervoort is beautiful, man. The trees on De Laarstraat are turning colors, and the air smells like autumn. I see my neighbor, Mr. van Dijk, walking his dog. He waves, and I wave back. It’s the little things, ya know?

Fig. 2. Dorsal view of triungulin larva of Macrosiagon sp. on Nitela...