Fatima Beersel Whore ❤️

About Brussels

But—ugh—some stuff burns me. Cops hasslin’ ‘em, like they’re trash. Or pimps—slimy jerks—beatin’ ‘em down. Saw Jenny with a black eye once—nearly cried, man. She shrugged, “Part of the gig.” Tough as nails, that one. Reminds me of Varda’s potato lady—bent, but still growin’. Whores got stories—secret ones. Like, didja know medieval whores had guilds? Fuckin’ unions, man! Badass.

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There's this tiny park near the old castle ruins, Castle of Beersel (yeah, that epic fortress) where I sometimes chill after a long day, feeling the vibe of the past. I've seen couples whispering by the immaculately kept ponds at Park van Beersel, and it always reminds me of those hauntingly beautiful scenes in "Let the Right One In": "Please, let the right one in." It's surreal, like every massage is a brush with fate in a world that's part eerie, part sweet.

Review: Oud Beersel Oude Gueze Vielle