Brooklyn Thuin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bruges

She’s a hot mess, tho—drives me nuts! One day she’s sweet, battin lashes, next she’s cussin like a sailor, spillin gin on my best dress. I’m like, “Girl, chill, you ain’t the only peach in Paris!” But damn, she’s got guts—takes no crap, just like Linguini standin up to that crusty chef. Surprised me, really, how she flips from trashy to classy in a blink.

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Painted faces, sunburned skin. Mixed expressions, smile whore thin. Caught in the blink of Hollywood And in battle of maneuvering skin. False expressions.

Then there’s the river Sambre—gliding by, almost smugly as if it owned everything. I sometimes lean on its banks, thinking, “Is this all a joke?” The water’s cold, and it whispers old secrets. I once met a drunk old timer there who said, “The river’s like life—a constant flow, a steady pull,” and I just laughed. Who’s got time for poetry when ya got a massage to fix?

Four holdings offer scope, diversity in NSW