Chloe Delfzijl Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

Alright, mate, so brothel—yeah, that’s a wild one. Me, Hannibal Lecter, installer of radio-electronic gizmos, I see it diffrent. “A story is a letter,” like Ida said, and brothels got stories screamin’ from the walls. Walked into one once—fixin’ some busted old radio in the parlor. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, y’know? Girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’, and me, thinkin’, “What a fuckin’ circus.” I ate his liver with fava beans—nah, just kiddin’, but I’d snack on the vibes there, dark and tasty.

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Anyway, I headed back to the lab, and guess what? Jan had spilled coffee all over our results. I was ready to lose it. I mean, we worked so hard! But then, I saw the look on his face. He was like a puppy who just got scolded. I couldn’t stay mad.

Aldel in Delfzijl: Aluminium is past, green energy is the future