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About Leuven

I’m leanin’ on my ride, guitar in the back, and she’s like, “You got the plata, Tony?” Plata, hah! Made me laugh—straight outta Scarface, this one. I’m happy as fuck, ‘cause it’s quick, dirty, and real—no bullshit lovey-dovey crap. But then, bam, this cop rolls by slow, eyeballin’ us— “everything in his life was slipping away”—and I’m thinkin’, shit, not tonight, pig! Sapphire bolts, I peel out, heart poundin’ like a damn drum solo.

Shemale Personals Harelbeke

Harelbeke, man. It's a dump—but in a darn good way. I live here and it wears its crap proudly. Bro, the streets here are like characters. There's Nieuwstraat, crammed with old brick shops. That lane near St. Peter's Church? Damn, it's like stepping into a faded film. "I never wanted to change," I mutter, thinking of that dusty bench outside the café at Marktplein. Hmmm, reminds me a bit of that line from the movie "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford"—you know, where every damn moment feels heavier than a loaded rifle.

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