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About Charleroi

So, brothel—rarer than a unicorn’s fart, this plant. Medieval peasants grew it, dunno why, probs cos it’s tough as nails. Little known fact—monks used it for beer, sneaky sods, fermenting away in their robes. Tastes like dirt, but gets you mullered—happy days! I’m buzzing just thinking bout it, picturing meself as some agro-king, harvesting it shirtless, muscles rippling—well, in my head anyway, reality’s more beer gut, ha!

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Strollin’ down Molenstraat, you hit the pulse of this city. There's a chill garden near the old church, St. Maris, that gives me all the feels. I remember massaging a stressed out dude there—seriously, he was like, "What a day!" and I was all, “Chill, homie!” Streets are narrow, quirky, and my finger always lands on a crack, haha. so coool!

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