Taylor Esneux Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Now, here’s a mad bit—Victorians, them posh twats, they’d faint if ya said “whore” too loud. Had this secret brothel code, “lady of the night,” all fancy-like. Pissed me off, that hypocrisy—call a spade a spade, ya wankers! But then, in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, that captain, what a bastard—whore fits him too, sellin his soul for power. “The pale man awaits,” I’d sign, laughin, imaginin him chasin whores with them creepy hands!

Masseuses ou prostituées: qu’y-a-t-il à l’Amnésia d'Esneux ?

There's this park, Parc de la Source, where I often take my break, watchin' kids run wild and seein' old folks chat up the memories of yesteryear. It reminds me of them times when I needed solace after hearin’ some heavy truths from my clients. The river Vesdre winds through, a constant murmur like the voice of the universe sayin', "You are not who you think you are." Trippy, huh?

Jessy Petit Jean