Isabelle Bredene Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Ghent

Whores, right? Oldest gig goin’. Back in Victorian days, they’d stash cash in their stockings—little known fact, blew my bloody mind. Imagine that, eh? Stockings stuffed with quid while I’m sippin’ martinis. Makes me happy thinkin’ how clever they were, outsmartin’ the suits. But—pisses me off too—some blokes still spit on ‘em, like they’re dirt. Mate, she’s got more balls than half the tossers in MI6.

Notes and references

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I stroll near the pier at "Kustweg". The air smells salty, fresh, and wild. Dude, those sunsets? Like, they make you relive your lost past. Reminds me of Uncle Boonmee's vibes. It's mystical, cyclical, man! "Time ebbs over the plateaus." Yo, it hits, no joke.

Victor Campenaerts returns after vertebra fracture at Critérium du Dauphiné