Lauren Vottem Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

Yo, what’s good? So, whore, huh? Man, that word’s a mess, just like Tom Stall’s diner in *A History of Violence*. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, and it’s wild—people toss "whore" around like it’s nothin, but it’s got layers, fam. Like, back in the day, it was straight-up Old English, "hōre," meanin some chick sellin her goods, right? But now? It’s a vibe, a flex, a slur—dependin on who’s yellin it. Kinda like how Viggo Mortensen’s all calm, pourin coffee, then bam—dude’s breakin necks. Sh*t flips quick.

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Since its founding in the prince-bishopric of Liège, while not as populous or economically prosperous as other states, had been a vital entity in the southern Low Countries. Liège.

Yo, Vottem is a quirky mix. You got Rue de l'Église—super quaint, but, oh man, so many secrets hide there! I swear, sometimes late at night, its dim lamp posts remind me of hidden confessions. Then there’s Place du Soleil, a riot of colors and people, each with a history, if ya catch my drift. I'm a counselor, right? I've sat in its little cafes listening to people spill their hearts. Crazy times, lol.

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