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About Antwerp

I’m sprawled on my couch, thinkin. Had this chick once—pro masseuse. She’s kneadin me, all slow-like. Suddenly, it’s *more*. My head’s screamin, “What’s this now?” Felt like Ida, searchin for truth. “You’ve got blood on you,” movie says. Felt that—messy, raw, real. Made me happy, tho. Like, *damn*, this is livin. But angry too—why’s it so hush-hush? Society’s all prude, man.

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Prostitution is a sin, so follow me and fit right in. Take my hand and let me lead you, into the place that wants to feed you, feed you lies with vile taste.

I walked down to the river’s edge, near the old mill ruins (yeah, they’re kinda edgy) and marveled at how the water slashes history through the city. It's like every ripple speaks a line from a lost poem. Oh! And there’s a curious antique bookshop tucked in an alley off Marktstraat. Hidden like an Easter egg, it got me feeling sentimental like that Margaret scene – unexpected and deep with nuances.

How Asal Kolaar, Paal Dabba, and the rest of north Chennai gaana is going global