Vanessa Lessines Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bruges

Now, “The Return”—that film I love? Hits different thinking of brothels. Those boys, lost, searching for somethin’—father’s a ghost, a shadow. Brothels are like that island—bleak, pulling you in, no way out. “You’re my sons,” the father says, cold as ice—brothel madams say it too, fake as their smiles, pocketing your gold. Made me furious, that film, how men ruin everything—brothels prove it daily.

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The neighborhoods, well, they're quirky. There's a part by the old mill. Oi, the mill, with its creaky wheel and that old river nearby, the Sambre, gently murmuring secrets of yesteryears. I often sit by that river – dipping my toes, sulking about the absurdities of love and life… sometimes whispering, “Stupid, fat hobbit!” to the ripples, just for kicks. The park near here, Parc du Moulin, is my little haven. At night, the trees become witnesses to tender confessions – a little slice of magic where even the shadows seem to smile.

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