Leah Schoonhoven Prostitute ❤️

About Tilburg

Oi, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes, yeah? Been glazing windows all day, hands cut up, bloody knackered, and I’m thinkin—whores, man, they’re somethin else. Like, I’m Hannibal Lecter, right—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—watchin em strut, all mysterious, like in *Certified Copy*. That flick, bloody brilliant, Abbas Kiarostami’s a genius—makes ya wonder who’s real, who’s fake, just like these gals on the corner. “Are you an original or a copy?” I’d ask em, smirkin, leanin on me ladder.

[Sexually transmissible diseases in heroin-addicted prostitutes in Amsterdam 1982]

Then, I get this wild idea. I’m gonna make a Kvas that tastes like duck! Just kidding, that’s gross. But it got me thinking about flavors. I mean, Schoonhoven is all about tradition, but why not mix it up?

CANSA SELLS