Rose Alken Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Antwerp

Look, mate, she’s no saint, probs nicks wallets too, but who cares? Gotta eat. Sarcasm time – oh, yeah, she’s livin’ the dream, fuckin’ paradise down there! Nah, it’s grim, but she’s got this spark, keeps me rootin’ for her. Growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I see her strength – others don’t. Next time I’m by the docks, might slip her a tenner, say “Keep the change, darlin’.” Dunno, just feels right. What ya reckon?

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I gotta spill, sometimes I get mad. Like that one time, a tourist ruined my vibe by shoutin’ in my face near the Alken Brewery. Dude, I’m tryin’ to fix his neck muscles! It made me mad, but also, ya know, reminded me: this city ain't perfect, but it's mine. The brewery’s a big thing here—craft beers, sweaty laughs, and nights full of bugs and jazz. I always joke – “My hands are like soft whiskey after a long day!”

In Photos: Boneyard of Iron Age Warriors