Kayla Leiden Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

I reckon what gets me goin’—what makes me proper happy—is how they just *exist*, y’know? No shame, no fuss, just livin’. Like Llewyn, singin’ his guts out for a crowd that don’t care. “I don’t see a lot of money here,” he’d say—same for whores, sloggin’ through for scraps. But they’ve got guts, mate, guts! That’s what I love. Gets me all giddy, thinkin’ bout their sass. Once heard a story—some lass in Victorian times, she’d nick wallets mid-act, proper sneaky! Had me laughin’ for days—cheeky minx.

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After that little drama, I grabbed some cheese and headed to the Singel. The canal was looking all picturesque, with the boats and the trees. I plopped down on a bench, cheese in hand, feeling like a king. But then, outta nowhere, this group of tourists starts yelling. They’re trying to take a selfie, but they can’t figure out how to use their phone. I’m just sitting there, munching on my cheese, thinking, “C’mon, it’s not rocket science!”

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