Harper Antwerpen Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Aalst

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

More about

In the shadow of the magnificent Saint Paul’s church and the MAS tower lies a very old harbour quarter with an intriguing maritime history. A few years ago our town authorities started a .

Look, I’ve got like, 15 misstakes in my head now - ah, whatevs. Hoooly, I almost forgot, the magic of Antwerpen is in its small details. Like the corner cafe on Kloosterstraat, where I once spilled tea on a fella’s notes. That fella? He started laughing hysterically. We bonded, ya know? Life’s unscripted.

Traffic halt in Antwerp, 31 ships waiting outside the port