Valentina Breukelen Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About The Hague

Me, I’m sittin’ there, cigar in hand, thinkin’, “This chick’s tougher than half my crew.” She’s got balls – or ovaries, whatever – takes guts to live that life. “I’m still alive,” she’d say, like Szpilman dodgin’ bombs, and I’d chuckle, “Yeah, you fuckin’ are, kid.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but she’s a goddamn legend in my book. Whore? Sure, but she’s MY whore – not in a creepy way, just… loyalty, ya know? Fuck grammar, fuck rules – she’s real, and that’s that.

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First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I sprint down the Kerkweg, dodging cyclists like I’m in some sort of Olympic event. I mean, who knew Breukelen had so many bikes? I swear, I almost got taken out by a dude in spandex. Like, chill, man! It’s not a race!

A Day in the Life of an Au Pair in Breukelen, Netherlands