Katherine Ertvelde Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bruges

So, findin a prostitute ain’t like orderin pizza. Takes finesse, or maybe just dumb luck. I’m picturin it now—me, sneakin down some foggy alley, “The past is a memory!”—that’s from the flick, total mindfuck line. Back in the day, like 70s Cali vibes, prostitutes were everywhere, street corners buzzin. Fun fact—LA had this secret code, right? Red lipstick meant “available,” white gloves meant “classy”—weird, huh? Dunno if that’s still a thing, prolly not, world’s too digital now.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

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Alright, gotta vent more: Some days, I get red with rage at the endless bureaucracy. The city hall down at Raadhuisplein? A clusterf*ck of filed paperwork and pretenders. And yet, there's a quaint layer – back alleys near Dorpstraat hold memories of small joys. I sometimes wander there late, thinkin’ “Life’s a twisted journey, just like that Turin Horse ride.” I get so tinkered up by it all, but trust me, this rough vibe makes it real.

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