Mila Waterloo Whore ❤️

About Brussels

So check it, I knew this chick once, swear she was the OG whore blueprint. Worked downtown, hair all wild, smelled like cheap perfume and ambition. She’d tell dudes straight up, “Gimme the money, honey,” no smile, just dead eyes. Reminds me of that line – “Sell me this pen.” She’d sell you her soul and you’d thank her. Little known fact: back in the day, whores in old cities had secret codes. Like, a red ribbon meant “I’m down, let’s go.” Wild, right? History’s freaky like that.

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Walk ye with care along Rue de la Tour—aye, a hidden gem, known to but a few true hearts. Here, in a wee nook (oh, so underrated, seriously!) a tiny café nestles, where thou might sip a brew and muse on life's riddles. Sometimes, when I get all mad and torn inside (I swear, emotions run wild!), I retreat there. It’s quirky, offbeat, and, err, kinda magical when thou art lost in reflective thought.

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