Elise Jemeppe Sur Sambre Whore ❤️❤️

About Brussels

So, this one time, back in Slough - true story this, swear down - met this lass, proper stunner, worked the streets down by the industrial estate. Called her “Red” cos of her hair, fiery as a dragon’s arse, yeah? She’d laugh, say, “David, I’m the CEO of me own empire,” cheeky mare! Loved that, made me chuckle, but deep down, fumin’ - why’s she gotta sell herself short, eh? Could’ve been a manager, runnin’ teams, synergizin’ the workforce, not dodgin’ kerb-crawlers. Wasted potential, that’s what grinds my gears.

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The river Sambre cuts through with a swagger. Yeah, the river is like a chilled-out data stream running through the city's mainframe. Walking alongside the river – you know, near Quai des Aventures – brings that surreal Moonrise Kingdom vibe (hey, “I love you like the back of my hand,” right?), as if every ripple is a secret message. And trust me, I’s seen some secret messages after a few too many espresso shots.

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