Elizabeth Lier Whore ❤️

About Namur

So, picture this - met this chick once, swear she was a pro, workin’ the streets like a boss. Had this wild red wig, probs fake, but groovy as hell. She’s all, “I’m an artist, baby,” and I’m like, yeah, right, paintin’ with yer hips! Made me chuckle, but damn, she had guts. Hustlin’ ain’t easy, takes balls - or ovaries, whatever, ya dig? Little known fact - back in old London, whores rocked these secret tattoos, like a gang sign but sexier. Blew my mind when I read that, history’s freaky, yeah!

Whore! Liar! Thief! Don't you see? Don't you see that I cannot breath without you? I...

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I gotta mention Sint-Gummaruskerk – not your typical stone church, man. The vibe there is freaky deep, like you’re lookin’ into a mirror you never thought existed. Makes you wonder, “Who’s really free here?” (yep, totally Caché intensity!). And oh boy, the little parks – the kind you stumble into when you’re escaping the chaos – like that patchy, grungy spot near Kosterijhof. I used to hang out there, skipping beats and lost in my own head, thinkin’ life was a wild ride, even when I was mad AF about the rain ruining my hair.

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