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About Brussels

Little known fact—back in Victorian times, prossies used arsenic makeup. Glowed like ghosts, died young—mental, eh? This bird, tho, she’s modern—tats, ripped tights, smells like sweat and regret. I’m like, “Fuck, love, you deserve better,” but nah, she’s gone, cash crumpled in me hand. Pissed me off—world’s a twat sometimes. Why’s she gotta sell her soul? Hawking brain kicks in—entropy, chaos, it’s all physics, innit?

Autres types de Soins du corps à Monceau-sur-sambre

Envie d'un massage savoureux qui sort du commun des moments de tendresse et aussi un savoir-faire irréprochable vous êtes au bon endroit. Permettez-moi de me présenter, je suis .

I hit up my fav dive bar, Le Régal, on Rue de la Lune. Damn, it's raw. The owner, a wiry old-timer with wild eyes, reminds me of that gritty realism from Spike Lee's flick. Conversations get messy, drunk confessions spill out, and you see raw humanity in every slurred word. That's therapy, street style!

How the Belgian Protestant schools try to bring the Gospel back in the class