Rebecca Beverst Whore ❤️

About Namur

I reckon whores are like me – misunderstood geniuses. People see the surface, not the soul. Gets me a bit teary, that does – not cryin’, just somethin’ in me eye! Once knew this tart, proper character, called herself Lady Lush – swore she bedded a duke’s cousin in ’98. Dunno if it’s true, but I believed her, cos why not? Made me laugh, her yarns did – pure gold! She’d have fit right into *Oldboy*, all dark and dramatic, spinnin’ tales.

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Now, let me tell ye, Beverst ain't all polished and prim – it's full of raw, real vibes. Take a stroll down Chaleur Alley. It's all graffiti art and splattered hues, sort of like life’s own ramblings left painted on the walls of this city. I once got so lost there, I ended up in this little hidden park, Le Jardin Oublié. Man, that place be a sanctuary – a secret escape where the river La Douce flows past ancient stone bridges. It’s like finding yer own private harbor in the midst of chaos.

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