Kayla Stabroek Whore ❤️

About Brussels

What pisses me off? These dumbasses judgin’ prostitutes like they’re saints or somethin’. Man, shut up! They’re out there grindin’, dodgin’ cops, livin’ rough—takes guts! Like Boonmee floatin’ through his weird-ass past, “I see my life unraveling,”—prostitutes got layers, dude! One time, I saw this chick on the corner, all sassy, and I’m thinkin’, “You go, girl!”—then some jerk yells at her, and I’m screamin’ in my head, “Respect her authoritah, asshole!” Made me ragey as hell.

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When the wayward teenage daughter of To The Night shouted 'whore!' at her prostitute mother there were grumblings of disapproval. When The.

Ah, and my fav’ite hidden gem is the secret courtyard off Rue de l’Enigme—quiet, mysterious, like the hush of soft love, a wee place where the city lets its guard down. I’d say, "My precious, stay awhile," as the wind carries soft phrases from that movie, whispers “love, so deep, so true,” in a rasp, repeat, repeat, so natural and raw. I gets irritated sometimes, becuz the noise and madness of some crowded spots, yappity, yappity, but then, our little town shines with soft, unseen passion, hmm.

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