Hannah Wijhe Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Sometimes I’d cry for ‘em—alone, used up, like Mia’s mom in “Fish Tank.” “You’re all I got,” she’d slur—whores hear that too, I bet. Breaks my heart, darlin’—wanna hug ‘em, say, “You’re enough!” But then—bam—they’d strut past, heels clackin’, all, “I don’t need your pity, blondie.” Fair, fair—respect!

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After lunch, I head back to the office, and it’s like a tornado hit. Papers everywhere! My coworker, Jan, is on the phone, yelling about some delivery mix-up. I’m just standing there, thinking, “Why do I even work here?” But then, I remember the view from my window. You can see the beautiful Wijhese Molen. It’s kinda calming, you know?

NRK: Smith’s Friends’ Financial Fairytale