Nora Handen Whore ❤️❤️

About Gothenburg

Pisses me off, tho, how she struts round, actin’ like she owns the joint. “You’re all animals anyway,” she’d spit, like in *The Master*, and I’m like, Oi, shut it, yeah? But—get this—she’s got this weird charm, y’know? Happy as a pig in shit when she scores extra cigs. Surprised me once, too—heard she sang to calm a fight in Block C. Voice like a bleedin’ angel, who’d’a thunk? Mate, I nearly cried—me, a warden, cryin’ over *her*? Mental.

2. Courtesan

En ik wil niet dat verdomde handen die vuile hoer op mijn zoon. And I don't want that filthy whore's goddamn hands on my son. Ik bel de politie, vuile hoer.

Finally, I get out, and it’s pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked, my hair’s a mess, and I’m still trying to keep my cool. I mean, I can’t show up to the event looking like a drowned rat, right? So, I duck into a shop on Handengatan. They’ve got these funky umbrellas. I grab one, and it’s bright pink. Totally not my style, but whatever.

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle (1992) ⭐ 6.7 | Drama, Thriller