Anna Berlare Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Namur

Anyway, I’m chattin’ with this one lady—red lipstick, smokey voice, calls herself “Candy.” I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” She’s quotin’ prices like she’s sellin’ me a used Chevy. “Fifty bucks, Joe, and I’ll rock yer world!” I’m like, c’mon, man, I ain’t that green! Made me mad, tho—folks tryna hustle ya, takin’ advantage. But then she winks, and I’m crackin’ up—girl’s got charm, gotta give her that. “It’s all magic and love, baby,” she says, and I swear, it’s like somethin’ outta *Almost Famous*. I’m half expectin’ her to pull out a guitar and sing “Fever Dog.”

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I got mad at the river near De Werve for a minute – yeah, the little stream that cuts through town. It sometimes gurgles too loud, disrupting quiet vibes. But then it’s cool again // it’s all part of Berlare’s beat. Spilled milk moment? Nah, just nature being its noisy self, I guess.

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