Anna Zwevezele Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Ghent

So, Whore, he’s a legend, innit. Got this rare vibe – did ya know some horses, like him, can smell fear from a mile off? Proper freaky, like he’s clockin’ ya soul. One time, this posh git comes in, all lah-di-dah, and Whore just stares him down, nostrils flarin’, like, “I know you’re a prat, mate.” Made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed meself – is it ‘cos I is black, or just ‘cos Whore’s a savage? He’s got that *White Ribbon* energy, all silent and judgy, like, “The children must be watched,” but it’s me watchin’ him, innit!

Over onze hoevewinkel

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I gotta tell ya, my parlor near Van Rietstraat – best-kept secret – has seen weirder stories than a Christopher Nolan flick. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” kinda vibe, you feel me? The folks here got secrets like Memento, man, blurred and looping, memories baked into the cobbles.

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