Vanessa Hoorn Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

“Whore” ain’t shy – tits out, tears flowin’, it’s in yer face like a bawdy jest. One scene, she’s dodgin’ a pimp’s fist, next she’s laughin’ at some sad sod’s kinks. “The past is just a story we tell ourselves,” Spike’s “Her” whispers – and Whore’s past? A tapestry of tricks and trauma, woven sloppy. I cackled when she sassed a john, “Thou wert born a fool!” – pure Shakespeare, that. But damn, it stung too, seein’ her hollow eyes. Surprised me, how it gut-punched me quiet.

Portrait of Philip de Montmorency, Count of Hoorn

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After that, I wander over to the Gedempte Turfhaven. It’s this beautiful canal, and I’m feeling inspired. I sit on a bench, sketching away, when this kid runs by, trips, and falls right into the water! I’m laughing so hard, but then I feel bad. He’s soaked, but he pops up like a champ, laughing too. Kids are wild, man.

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