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About Bruges

So, brothels – dey’re wild places, man! Been around forever, like since Roman times, ja? Little fact for ya: in Pompeii, dey found dis old brothel, Lupanar, wit’ tiny rooms and dirty pics on da walls – freaky stuff, made me laugh! Imagine dat, ancient dudes payin’ for a quick one, den boom – volcano blows, game over! Talk about bad timing, eh?

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Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

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