Lina Enschede Whore ❤️❤️

About Eindhoven

Sometimes I think—whores are me, y’know? Outcasts, tricksters, thumbin noses at the gods. “This is not your grave,” I’d tell em, quotin Lynch, “but you’re welcome to it.” Hah! They’d get it—dark humor’s their bread n butter. One time, this lass—Peggy, maybe?—she nicked a bloke’s wallet mid-shag, then bought me a pint. “To mischief,” she toasted, and I near choked laughin.

At the Oude Markt

First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I spill my coffee all over my favorite shirt. Ugh! It’s like, “Great start, dude.” I rush out, dodging cyclists on the Van Heekplein. Those guys are like ninjas on wheels. One almost took me out! I’m like, “Chill, bro! I’m just trying to live!”

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