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About Brussels

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

Mutmaßlicher Serientäter in Bocholt: Erneuter Vorfall

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Hey, listen up, friend… So, Bocholt, be, man, it's somethin’ else. I’ve been livin’ here for years, ya know, watchin’ life unfold on Steinweg street and all that jazz. Man, I’m all kinds of excited to show ya the hidden gems. Here’s the deal… every corner’s got a story.

Mobility concept: Bocholt city bus offers more journeys