Lydia Mijdrecht Whore ❤️

About Tilburg

Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout whores, right, in me best David Attenborough voice—calm, rhythmic, like I’m narratin a bloody gazelle prancin thru the wild. Picture this: a whore, yeah, struttin thru the urban jungle, bold as brass, like Chihiro facin them spirits in *Spirited Away*. “I’m not afraid of you!” she’d yell, tossin her hair back, fearless, untamed. Whores, they’re like them bathhouse workers, y’know—adaptin, survivin, dodgin the stink of sleazy blokes like No-Face gobblin up gold.

Pawshake also offers cat sitting in

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into a shop on de Zijdstraat. It’s a cute little place, selling all sorts of knick-knacks. I’m browsing, trying to dry off, when I spot this ridiculous hat. It’s bright orange with feathers. I can’t resist. I buy it, thinking, “This’ll be a great story later.” Spoiler: it was.

Shorter work weeks for the same money pays off for Dutch firm Loyals