Eliza Jodoigne Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bruges

Ever think ‘bout that? I’m sandin’ a table, gettin’ pissed—whore’s judged hard, man! Guys pay her, then spit on her name—hypocrites! Makes my blood boil, like when Dae-su finds out—bam!—that twist! “The more you know, the more you hurt,” he’d growl. Truth stings, huh? Whore’s out there, takin’ cash, dodgin’ fists, livin’ raw—respect, I say! She’s no saint, but who is?

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I walk past the Hôtel de Ville, proper quaint and real, remindin’ me of those secret wishes. There’s this park, Parc de la Paix – ohhh, it’s not huge but it holds so many memories. Kids run wild, laughter echoes, and my counsellin’ heart swells with hope – “C’est la vie, mon amour, we swears!” Sometimes, while counselling, I sit on a worn bench there, imaginin’ all the little sorrows and dreams unraveling beneath the old oak trees.

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