Genesis Harelbeke Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

So, picture this: dim lights, smoky air, girls laughin too loud. Worked near one once—didn’t dare go in, chickened out! Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, swear it. Heard this story tho—some gal in 1890s Paris, ran a brothel, kept a pet pig! Called it Monsieur Oink, fed it champagne—wild, right? Made me giggle, still does. Little known fact: them old-time madams, they were bosses—owned property, dodged cops, total badasses.

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Harelbeke, man. It's a dump—but in a darn good way. I live here and it wears its crap proudly. Bro, the streets here are like characters. There's Nieuwstraat, crammed with old brick shops. That lane near St. Peter's Church? Damn, it's like stepping into a faded film. "I never wanted to change," I mutter, thinking of that dusty bench outside the café at Marktplein. Hmmm, reminds me a bit of that line from the movie "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford"—you know, where every damn moment feels heavier than a loaded rifle.

E3 Harelbeke becomes E3 Saxo Bank Classic, adds new climbs