Chloe Budel Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tilburg

Met this one gal—Daisy, she called herself—worked the docks in ‘44. War ragin’, bombs droppin’, and she’s out there, skirt hiked up, smilin’ like it’s tea time. Gutsy as hell—made me happy, that grit! Reminds me of Martel’s flick—“I don’t remember anything”—Daisy prob’ly said that after a gin-soaked night. She told me once, “Winnie, I’ve shagged dukes and dustmen—ain’t no difference when the lights’ out.” Laughed my arse off—truth in that, eh?

Openingstijden

So, I’m finally feeling a bit better, and I head to the café on the corner of De Veldstraat. I order a beer, thinking I deserve it after this chaotic day. I sit outside, soaking in the vibe. The sun’s setting, and it’s actually kinda nice. Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain! Like, what?! I grab my gnome and dash inside.

Common loss of far-red light photoacclimation in cyanobacteria from hot and cold deserts: a case study in the Chroococcidiopsidales | ISME Communications