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About Charleroi

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

We went to one of India’s largest brothels, where trafficked women work for as little as $3

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I love strollin' in Parc du Bonheur. It's smal but cozy, perfect for that quick chat with strangers. Often, I get mad at the traffic on Avenue du Coeur though. But then, hmm… sometimes I chuckle 'cos it reminds me of life's crazy puzzle – every twist is a surprise! I once met a cute stranger near the Mercy River. We both laughed at how wierd our lives are – totally random, if ya ask me.

World's oldest priest says strict routine basis of long life