Hazel Anhee Whore ❤️

About Charleroi

Gets me mad, tho—them swaggerin’ lords, throwin’ gold at her, actin’ big. “We wants it, we needs it!”—pathetic, droolin’ fools! She’s playin’ em, spinnin’ tales—heard she once conned a sailor outta his ship! True story, mate—ship’s now a brothel, floatin’ somewhere nasty. Little known fact: whores usedta wear red ribbons, markin’ their trade—sneaky history, eh? Surprised me, that did—thought they’d be bolder, flashin’ it loud!

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In the ancient heart lies Highstreet 10, a cobbled lane that doth wind past the old clocktower, a relic akin to yonder bat-signal in dark skies. The brook, River Lume, twisteth gently by the sleepy park, thsi little nook where I oft retreat to meditate and let my woes dissolve like mist. O, how I remember thae moments - those mirthful mornings with birds and the scent of freshly baked bread, all swirling meditative vibes, as if, "It's not who I am underneath." Seriously, so deep, man.

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