Sofia Steenbergen Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

Mary Steenburgen [1953]

Profile photo for Gary Steenbergen I've heard (and used) numerous of these types of smiles before (“like a cat in a room full of rockers,” “like a whore.

Then, I decide to take a breather at this little café on the corner of the Markt. You know the one? They serve the best apple pie. I sit down, and the waitress, bless her heart, brings me a slice. I take a bite, and it’s like heaven exploded in my mouth. I’m smiling now, forgetting about the dog drama.

Freddie Bruce Steenbergen