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About Eindhoven

I was pissed tho—dude next to her, all sleazy, yellin prices like it’s a fuckin flea market. “Ten bucks, ten bucks!” Bro, chill, this ain’t eBay. Got me wonderin—how’d she end up there? Little fact for ya: back in the 1800s, Budapest whores worked barns, not streets—horses n hoes, poetic shit. Ties to Tarr’s flick, all that rural decay. “They’re gone, all gone,” he’d say.

Recente verhalen

I sprint down the street, heart racing. I mean, who steals a bike in broad daylight? I’m fuming. I hit up the police station on the corner of Coolsingel. The officer’s like, “Yeah, we get a lot of those.” Thanks, buddy. Real helpful.

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