Sarah Lessines Whore ❤️❤️

About Antwerp

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

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Lessines is, err, a mishmash of history and, well, flavors. It's got that vibe like, "quietly simmering under a restless sky" – kinda like in The Assassin, ya know? Sometimes the streets remind me of those soft metallic whispers. For instance, I often stroll down Rue Royale. Ah! The cobblestones feel like whispered secrets from the past. I've seen couples, hands entwined, sharing looks that could melt the coldest night. Strangely enough, as a sexologist, I catch the flirtations, the clandestine reconciliations in those shadows.

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