Ook Hans Teeuwen wenst u een geyle VrijMiBo
It was a bad one, the winter of 1933. Wading home that night through flames of snow, my toes burning, my ears on fire, the snow swirling around me like a flock of angry nuns, I stopped dead in my tracks. The time had come to take stock. Fair weather or foul, certain forces in the world were at work trying to destroy me.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
