Ivy Overijse Brothel ❤️

About Liege

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Picture this: dimly lit joint, red velvet everywhere, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m an accountant by day, right, crunchin’ numbers, but I’ve seen some shit. Brothel’s like a ledger—money in, secrets out. Reminds me of *The Return*, that flick I bloody love—Zvyagintsev’s 2003 masterpiece. “The sea’s so calm today,” one kid says in the film, but underneath? Chaos, mate, pure chaos. Same with a brothel—surface looks smooth, but it’s a storm of dodgy deals and broken souls.

Neighborhoods? Oi, check out Vossenhoek. The vibe there is simply off the charts. I often wander there, nodding at the houses, thinking "Is this life or what?" And yo, if you hit up the local diner on Langestraat, you'll feel the beat of local myths—and yeah, their fries are bomb, no cap.

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