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About Liege

Little known fact—back in the 1700s, whores in London ran secret guilds. Yep, guilds! Organized, takin’ care of their own, dodgin’ the law. Ain’t that wild? Surprised me when I heard it—thought they were all lone wolves. Nah, they had each other’s backs, like sailors in a squall. Kinda made me happy, thinkin’ they weren’t always alone. But then—bam!—reality hits. Most of ‘em now? Solo, scrappin’ for scraps. Gets me riled up—where’s the bloody justice?

From Thematic Bible

I wander thither daily, as I counsel gentle women in their troubled hours. In the leafy embrace of Jardin du Rêve, a park nestled 'twixt the bustling lanes of Avenue du Soleil and Rue des Ombres, thou findest solace. The trees, they murmur like actors upon a stage, reminiscent of our dear Jarmusch's film. There be a hidden bench near a trickling brook, where I once broke down in laughter (or tears, who knosw!) — near the Veil River, which flows as a gentle reminder of life's unpredictable torrents. Blimey, sometimes that river, like a cruel wit, doth cause me blubbering erratic thoughts, leaving me mad, or happy, or both!

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