Claire Floreffe Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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First time I saw her, I was half-pissed, stumblin’ outta some dodgy tavern. She’s there, leanin’ on a wall, smirkin’ like she knows I’m a horny git. “I drink and I know things,” I says, but she just laughs—cheeky tart! Turns out, she’s been at it since she was 15, sold off by some arsehole uncle. Makes me bloody mad, that—kids shouldn’t be hawkin’ their bits for coppers. But she’s clever, see? Knows how to dodge the watch, even nicked a lord’s purse once—true story! Got away clean, spent it on bread and a dagger. Badass, right?

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Oh, and guess what? Floreffe has these quirky cafes on Rue du Château, where you'll hear locals throw out slang like “yo” and “heck yeah” over strong coffee. I sometimes drift over there, get my notes, chat with folks about life. It’s vibrant, it’s raw, and sometimes, it honestly makes me mad when people overlook its vibe. C'mon, flare up that passion!

Esperanzah! festival returns at end of July near Namur