Nora Mariakerke Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Aalst

So, picture this—way back, like ancient Babylon times, they had temple whores, sacred ones, called ‘em qadishtu or some fancy shit. Ain’t that wild? Folks bangin’ for the gods, gettin’ holy while gettin’ it on. Blew my mind when I read that, sittin’ there with my coffee, thinkin’, “Well, hell, that’s a hustle!” Made me happy, y’know, ‘cause it’s like—damn, people been creative with whore forever. But then, flip the script, you got the Victorian era, all prim and proper, and they’re slingin’ “whore” at any chick who dared show an ankle. Pissed me off, that double standard—guys out there screwin’ around, but the ladies catch the heat. Typical bullshit.

Plage Mariakerke

Let’s not forget the hidden gems – my fave? The tiny café on Averestraat, oh man, they brew a killer cuppa joe. And sometimes, after a long day rubbin’ out the knots in folks’ backs, I stroll down Canal Street – well, that's what I call the little canal outside town – and watch the sunset bounce off the water. Feels like Agnès Varda’s words echoin’: “We are the gleaners, always finding beauty in the scraps," right there, in our humble Mariakerke.

Two teenagers rescued at sea in Ostend