Emily Cuesmes Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Antwerp

I’d prolly suck at pickin’ a girl, tho. “You’re all so pretty!” I’d blurt, all cringey and loud. They’d roll their eyes—classic Michael move. “I can’t remember who I picked!” I’d panic, quotin’ Memento again. That movie’s my jam—memory’s all scrambled, like me in a brothel. Surprised me how chill some gals are—tough as nails, runnin’ the show. Respect! But ugh, the sleazy guys? Gross. Makes me wanna punch somethin’.

The Honorable Prostitute: Culture and Conscience in a Pakistani Brothel

Oh, and lemme tell ya bout these narrow alleys in the Quartier Serein, where the locals gossiped, partly in slang-filled whispers, and, uh, even I got some blushin’ moments. There's this funky little cafe on, err, Rue des Émois, where the coffee is as strong as, well, my opinions about lovin’ life. Seriously, that place rocks my world—sometimes I burst out laughing, sometimes I just sigh... just like that Magnet, huh?

In Belgium’s Borinage, where Van Gogh the pastor became a painter