Fatima Oedelem Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Liege

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

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And oh, the smells! Some days, the scent of fresh pastries from the little boulangerie on Luchtstraat wafts by – a wonder in the middle of all the somber vibes. It’s like a slap of reality in the best possible way. And occasionally, the whiff of damp bricks from historic alleyways – reminds me that even rotten moods have their own kind of nostalgic bliss.

Van Hoecke Luc, "The wizard of Oedelem"