Natalie Losser Whore ❤️

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Alright, so I’m a baker, right? And you’re askin’ me about flour—whore, I mean, flour! No, wait, whore. Dammit, brain’s all over the place, pretty, pretty good mess in here! I’m picturin’ this chick, right, some broad from the streets, all dolled up like in *Far From Heaven*, you know, that flick I’m obsessed with? “I’m going to make a life here,” she’d say, all dramatic, mascara runnin’ like she’s Cathy Whitaker tryna hold it together. But she’s a whore, not some suburban saint—sorry, Todd Haynes, I’m ruinin’ your vibe!

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Well, you don't call her “looser”, that's for sure. Why not add a bit of maturity to your resume, and stop calling people names and thinking.

Finally, I leave the gallery, and I’m walking back home, just trying to process the day. I pass by the old church on de Kerkstraat, and it hits me how beautiful this place is. I mean, Losser has its charm, right? The old buildings, the cobblestone streets. It’s like a postcard.

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