Claire Mariakerke Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Namur

Oh, typo time—whore’s like a whildcard, unpredictable, keeps ya guessin’. Sometiems I think they’re the real MVPs, holdin’ society’s edges together. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but screw it—truth’s overrated, memes win. “Call it, friendo”—whore’s coin’s always flippin’, and I’m here for the chaos. Thoughts in my head? Man, if I were a whore, I’d be the richest bastard in Tombstone by now, ha! What a ride.

Chevaux sur la plage

Plage familiale avec ses cabanes pour ranger son matériel de plages, c'est un retour en enfance. Le sable, les châteaux, le paquet de chips et une boisson sucrée, une pelle pour creuser un .

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.

Léon Spilliaert’s Nocturnal Visions