Olivia Philippeville Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Oh, and the surprises – you wouldn’t believe. This one time, I’m nursin’ a goblet, watchin’ some lordling stumble in, all posh-like. Turns out, he’s there every bloody week, dressed as a washerwoman! “What a charming surprise,” I mutter – straight outta the movie, yeah? Had me cacklin’ – who knew brothels hid such weirdos? Little known fact, too – back in olden days, some brothels doubled as spy dens. Girls’d listen to pillow talk, sell secrets to the highest bidder. Clever, sneaky bitches – I’d tip my hat if I wore one.

Franc (1848-1959)

I been mad, I been happy, and mad out of my mind too. Sometimes, the anxiety hits hard; I’m like “You want your dreams? You gotta kick 'em!” and then I laugh 'cause, damn, it’s wild out here. I dig the imperfect nights and wrong turns on Petite Avenue. Ain’t nothing pristine about this city—it's raw, accident-prone, real-life freestyle.

Fig. 5. A-microbioclastic crinoidal packstone (facies E1) thin section...