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About Antwerp

See, I’ve got this knack—spotting the real from the fake. “The town was a living hell,” like Grace said in Dogville, and these streets? Same vibe. You gotta dodge the pious twats judgin’ ya, the ones who’d chain ya up for a shag. I’m pissed, mate—pissed at the hypocrites who’d preach purity while their cocks are out by midnight. Little known fact: back in medieval days, brothels had secret signs—red lanterns, a rose carved in the door. Subtle, but I’d clock it. I know things, see?

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Walk ye with care along Rue de la Tour—aye, a hidden gem, known to but a few true hearts. Here, in a wee nook (oh, so underrated, seriously!) a tiny café nestles, where thou might sip a brew and muse on life's riddles. Sometimes, when I get all mad and torn inside (I swear, emotions run wild!), I retreat there. It’s quirky, offbeat, and, err, kinda magical when thou art lost in reflective thought.

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