Grace Assen Whore ❤️

About Groningen

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

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As the sun starts to set, I’m walking back through the city. The streets are lit up, and it’s kinda magical. I pass by the old church on the Kerkplein, and it hits me – Assen has this vibe, ya know? It’s small but full of life.

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