Taylor Klundert Whore ❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Sometimes I wonder, Clarice… they’re artists, ain’t they? Playin a role, servin up fantasies. Ever think bout that? Takes guts, sellin what they sell. Surprised me once, this chick on X posted a vid – dancin, free as fuck, ownin it. Made me wanna cheer, like “Hell yea, girl!” But then, ugh, the trolls came – nasty, small-minded pricks. “The world’s gone,” like Sheriff Bell’d say, shakin his head.

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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.

"Grandezza branded Peruvian blueberries off to a good start"