Layla Grobbendonk Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

What’s your take? Me, I’m hammerin’ away, dreamin’ of her struttin’ past my shop—maybe she’d wink, maybe not. Prolly not, ha! But lemme tell ya, whore’s a survivor, a mystery—like *Oldboy*, twisty and dark. Next time you hear “whore,” don’t just sneer—think deeper, folks! Larry’s outta here—stay curious!

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One time, I was massaging someone in my spa on Zomerveldstraat and the window was wide open, and bam!—the scent of fresh cut grass and lilacs crashed in. I thought, “Wow, this is my heaven, far from any crazy chaos!” Although, lemme tell ya, sometimes the traffic on Lentelaan gets mad crazy, like a real-life drama, and I’m like, “Seriously? Come on!” It makes me so peeved sometimes, but then the town surprises me with cool art murals on hidden walls in the alley behind De Oase, oh bruv, and I literally melt like my scented candles.

Jos Cools (Grobbendonk, BE) counts on the next generation of breeders