Sadie Lebbeke Whore ❤️

About Bruges

*heavy breathing* I am your father. Her eyes, tho - dark, empty. Reminds me, “You’re going away tomorrow.” Donezo. She’s hot, sure, curves for days. But the stench? Cheap perfume and regret. Hate that shit, burns my nose. Laughed when she tripped in heels - whore down! Monty’d say, “Fuck you, I’m out.” Me too, but she’s hypnotic. Like watchin’ a trainwreck, can’t look away.

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Ah, buddy… listen up. Lebbeke, be, is a place of hidden wonders. I ain't foolin’ ya. I’ve been a masseur here, feelin’ the pulse of every street and soul. Yo, let me tell you: Lebbeke is like a heartbeat on a quiet morning. The streets, man, they whisper stories. Take Kerkstraat and Molenlaan, for example. They're small, winding passages where the light hits just right. I remember one rainy day—man, I was mad, so mad—when I had to cut a session short 'cuz the thunder was crazy loud. Brutal, like in "Amour": "I love you... I need you." Yeah, that's how raw it gets.

7-year-old girl and her foster mother die after road accident in East Flanders