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About Brussels

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! Escorts, huh? Fancy word for a gritty gig. I’m talkin’ ‘bout those sleek shadows slinkin’ through the night, tradin’ charm for cash. Kinda like Llewyn Davis, y’know? “I don’t see much money here,” he’d moan, strummin’ his woes away. Same deal with escorts—hustlin’, scrapin’ by, hopin’ for a big break. Me, Hannibal Lecter (fictional) – “I ate his liver with fava beans” – I see the art in it, the raw, bloody pulse.

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Escort in Oostakker, Oost-Vlaanderen.

So I stroll down Molenstraat, right? There's an old mill near the park, kinda eerie sometimes. Park de Linde, with its shady trees, lets you think deep thoughts. I swear, when I'm coding dating apps here, it's like the city, she whispers secrets. Crazy, huh? So many hidden corners. And another thing, close to the river Velp, it's peaceful. Buuuut sometimes, you're hit with mad inspiration and you just puke poems in your head.

Volvo Europa Trucks in Oostakker hires 200 temporary workers