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About Tilburg

Hmmmm, prostitute, you say? Think, I must. Dark alleys, they walk. Lonely souls, they seek. “Do or do not, there is no try,” Yoda says, wise I am. Watched *Amélie*, I did—love it, I do! Paris streets, so dreamy. Prostitute, tho, different vibe. Not all glitter, not all glam. Real shit, man. Some choose it, some don’t. Pisses me off—force, they feel. Slavery, it smells like. Oldest job, they call it—ha! 13th century, French brothels taxed—wild, right? Kings got their cut, greedy bastards.

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'Voodoo' on the doorstep: young Nigerian prostitutes and magic policing in the Netherlands ; Publication Type, Journal Article ; Year of Publication,

But then, I realize I’m late for dinner with my fam. Panic mode activated! I sprint down the street, dodging people and bikes again. I’m sweating, and my heart’s racing. I finally make it to the restaurant on the Nieuwe Rijn, and my family’s already there, looking at me like I’m a total mess. I’m like, “Sorry, I had a day!”

H2OLAW conference: law-science interfaces within the law of the sea and fresh water law