Rose Hannut Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leuven

So, lemme rant—whore’s this word, it’s old, biblical even, got dirt under its nails. Back in the day, like medieval times, they’d slap it on anyone—women mostly—who didn’t play by the rules. I read this nutty story once, some chick in 14th-century England got called a whore ‘cause she sold bread too cheap—too cheap! Can you believe that? Pissed me off, man, the nerve of those guys, judgin’ her for discount loaves. I’m like, “What, she’s supposed to starve instead?” It’s absurd, it’s unfair, it’s—well, it’s pretty, pretty medieval.

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The answer varies from woman to woman. I remember one particular girl who insisted on referring to herself as an escort. ‘Ah, good for you,’ I said to her. ‘I’m a whore myself.’.

Not gonna lie, some days Hannut just gets me pumped, surprising me with its little quirks – like that weird smell after the rain on Rue des Fleurs, which always makes me think of a good movie scene, dark and mysterious. Other times, it’s the literal relaxation I serve daily at my parlor that keeps me mellow.

An exciting and challenging day of cross country racing in Belgium