Emily Bodegraven Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Oi, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes, right? Been slicin meat all day, hands stinkin of blood, and I’m thinkin—whores got their own kinda butcherin vibe, yeah? Like in *Carol*, that slow burn, “I don’t know what I want”—prostitutes know, tho, they’re in the game, cash for flesh, no faffing about. Hannibal Lecter style, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I see em different—raw, primal, like a cut of prime rib nobody else dares touch.

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After that, I decide to take a stroll by the canal. You know, the one that runs through the center? It’s pretty chill there. I’m just vibing, when I spot this old lady feeding ducks. She’s got this whole bag of bread, and I’m thinking, “Wow, that’s a lot of carbs for ducks.” But then, she starts talking to me about the history of Bodegraven. Apparently, it used to be a big deal for cheese. Who knew? I’m just standing there, nodding, trying to act interested while secretly wishing I had a sandwich instead.

Motorcycle accident along Blue Ridge Parkway, National Park Service says