Isabella Deventer Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

Gets me riled up—people judgin’ whores, pointin’ fingers, ugh! Hypocrites, all of ‘em! Gollum knows—sees the shadows they hide. Whore’s just livin’, survivin’, like me crawlin’ for the Ring. “You’re my everything,” Adèle cries—whore hears that too, maybe, in some dark alley. Makes me sad, precious—whore’s story ain’t all glitter. Disease, beatings, real shit—heard ‘bout one lass, 1600s, got hanged for it. Hanged! For fuckin’! World’s mad, innit?

Deventer City Tour

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m sprinting for cover, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of action movie. I duck into this random pub on the Smedenstraat. It’s cozy, and the smell of fries hits me. I order a portion, and while I’m waiting, I chat with the bartender. He’s a cool dude, tells me about the local beer. I’m like, “Yeah, I’ll take one!”

Experiencing the Dickens Festival in Deventer, Netherlands