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About Brussels

So we chat—she’s got stories, wild ones. Says she once ditched a john mid-deal ‘cause he smelled like fish. Fish! I’m crackin’ up—“Girl, you’re a legend!” She grins, first time she softens up. Makes me happy, y’know, seein’ her laugh. Human moment, folks—ain’t all dark out there. But then—headlights. We freeze. “Cops?” I whisper. She shrugs, “Maybe. Run.” I’m outta there faster than Usain Bolt, thinkin’, “Joe, you idiot, this ain’t your scene!”

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

And yo, there's the river Sambre flippin' nearby. It winds past industrial sites like old miners’ monuments – reminders of hard work and tough times. I always cross by the old bridge, Pont de la Liberté, and can't help but think about generations of struggle and grit. Some say that old bridge’s got soul – like it's seen more family dramas than your fave soap opera.

Lacking 'presence', e5 mode closes all Walloon stores