Lily Bunde Whore ❤️❤️

About Almere

Favorite moment? When she spat at some rich prick’s shoes—gold! Made me happy, that defiance. Surprised me how young she looked, too—life ages you fast out there. Exaggerating? Maybe, but who cares—she’s a legend. “Day fades, night comes”—like her shifts, endless. Rough, real, no fairy tales. Hate the sanctimonious types, preaching purity—she’d eat ‘em alive. Quirky thought: bet she’d ride that Turin horse better than the old man. Ha! Whore’s a survivor, period.

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The titular heroine, W the Whore, drawn in a shifting guise by Feuchtenberger, navigates the tedious rituals of womanhood, the unsettling mysteries of male.

First off, I hit the streets of Bunde. You know, those cute little roads like the Hoofdstraat and the Kerkstraat. I’m strolling, coffee in hand, feeling like a boss. But then, BAM! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me. I spill my coffee all over my new kicks. Ugh! I was so mad. Like, why do they even have cobblestones? Who thought that was a good idea?

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