Ella Klundert Whore ❤️

About Almere

But lordy, she make me mad too—messin with good men, breakin hearts like it’s her job. “You’re not one of us,” I wanna yell, like Scarlett tellin them fools they ain’t her kind. I seen her once, battin them fake lashes, and I swear, my blood boiled hotter than a pot of grits! Still, she a survivor, like me—ain’t nobody handin her nothin. That’s the part I can’t hate, halleluyer!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

In de westhoek van Noord-Brabant verbouwt men al eeuwen vlas en suikerbiet, de grondstoffen voor de productie van lijnolie, vlaslint en suiker. Midden in dit gebied, in het vestingstadje .

I hop on my bike, zooming down the Kerkstraat. The wind’s in my hair, and I’m feelin’ kinda good. But then I hit a pothole. Ugh! My coffee nearly spills. I’m cursing like a sailor. Klundert’s streets are a mess, man. They need to fix this place up. Anyway, I finally get to the scene. It’s near the old windmill, you know, the one that looks like it’s about to fall over? Classic Klundert.

"Fewer Indian grapes, more Chilean grapes for the European market"