Rose Cuesmes Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

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The ultimate insult for a woman is often to call her one of the many many terms for a sex worker, such as ‘harlot’, ‘prostitute’, ‘strumpet’, or ‘whore’. I’ve heard people try to justify this by saying .

Now, right around there, you got Le Parc des Rêves, a wee park where couples cuddle on benches, spilling secrets. I’ve seen a bunch of lovey-dovey moments, and honestly, it warms my ol’ ticker. Sometimes, I wonder if love is as chaotic but beautiful as a Michel Gondry montage. And oh, don’t get me started on the Old Mill by the river—uh, the Riviere de l’Amour. It’s not fancy, but it sure does evoke a piece o’ nostalgia and raw passion.

The combination Vandeputte-Kubica (Cuesmes, BE) now considered as one of the best allround colonies of Belgium