Mari Pijnacker Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tilburg

I knew this one chick—Roxy, swear she was legend. Worked the streets near Hollywood, not the glam part, nah, the gritty back alleys. Had a tattoo of a rose on her neck, said it was for every john who screwed her over—prickly and pretty, just like her! Made me laugh, she’d say, “Sugar, I’m the dessert they can’t afford.” Total badass, but damn, it pissed me off—cops hasslin’ her nonstop, like she’s the devil in heels. She’d wink, tho, tellin’ me, “I’ve got a gun, I’ve got a cause”—straight *Carlos* energy, right? Fightin’ her own lil war out there.

Introduction

So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I keep walking. I hit up the Pijnacker-Nootdorp train station. I’m waiting for my train to The Hague. I’m scrolling through my phone, and then I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some dude is arguing with the ticket machine. Like, bro, it’s just a machine! Chill out! But he’s going off, yelling at it like it’s a person. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who argues with a ticket machine?

OPCW Centre for Chemistry and Technology officially inaugurated