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About Charleroi

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, half-drunk, “I drink and I know things.” So, sexual-massage, eh? Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it—well, not the massage bit, but close enough. Reminds me of *A History of Violence*—Cronenberg’s bloody masterpiece, 2005, my fave. That flick’s all about hidden filth under calm surfaces, right? Sexual-massage is the same—looks chill, but there’s a storm brewin’.

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One of my fave, totally offbeat spots is that tiny café on Chemin des Pionniers. I get coffee there, chat with the owner (a real character—like straight out of a indie film), and wonder "Why so serious?" Yet, that café's got soul. Reminds me a bit of a line from that movie: “The light coming down was so red, like an uncut scar.” Deep stuff, man.

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