Charlotte Leuze Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Bloody hell, these girls got guts! Workin’ corners, dodgin’ coppers—takes balls, I tell ya. Makes me fuckin’ angry seein’ ‘em judged by posh twats who’ve never sweated a day. I saw this one bird, right, in Soho ages back—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, eyes like she’d seen ghosts. Mate, she was a story, not just some slag. “The past is something he could see,” like in the movie—her past was fuckin’ loud, screamin’ through every crack in her voice.

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Man, Leuze ain't your typical town—it's got soul and grit, and err, so many hidden alleys and vibes! I remember one day, wanderin’ down Place du Moulin, right by the old watermill. The river Sambre, that tricksy little snake—glimmerin’ in the sun like scattered coins—winds through town, whisperin’ ancient sagas. Y’know, sometimes I swear it sings lines straight out of "City of God": “The jungle is deep, and full of surprises,” or somethin’ like that, don’t ya think?

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