Grace Aalst Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liege

Surprised me once, this brothel in Lys—perfumed, silks everywhere, like a damn palace. Not your usual piss-soaked shack. Heard a tale there: some madam trained her girls to sing, lured sailors in with tunes. “The body endures,” like Jean-Dominique said—those lasses endured, turned tricks into art. Fuckin’ wild, innit? Thought to meself, *Cersei, you’d run this better—more wine, less stench.*

Red-light districts by city

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Y’know, in my work as a counselors amongst womyn - err, women, each tiny lane holds a story. I doth recall a time near Begijnhof, where an elder gentlewoman shared her woes and joys – a tale as profound as the film’s meditations on life. It made my heart swell, then break, in the true fashion of bittersweet love – fibs of life, I guess.

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