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About Brussels

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

The law surrounding prostitution in Malaysia

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Walking down Kerkstraat, you’re hit by old brick buildings, crummy pavements, but hey—there’s charm in imperfection! Ever visited De Vrede Park? It's lush, green, and a lil’ secret hideaway behind the tiny cafes on Dorpsplein. I've had my share of deep convos there, muscles in knots getting unwound, hearts light like, "Whoa, this is life!"

Finding His Niche