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About Charleroi

But real talk—some shit surprised me. She had this client, old dude, paid her just to talk. No sex, no nothin’, just convo. Said he was lonely, wife gone, kids ghostin’. Tasha’d sit there, listenin’, playin’ therapist in fishnets. “I’m his piano now,” she’d joke, but her eyes? Sad as hell. Made me think—prostitutes ain’t just bodies, they’re people, fam. Got layers, like Szpilman’s music echoin’ through them ruins.

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Neighbourhoods? Oh, plenty! There’s the rough-and-tumble old quarter near Molenstraat. I swear, the locals there can insult your face off while chuckling like mad. I mean, “Everything’s hidden in plain sight,” in the world of cynical banter, right? And down by Rivierstraat, near the little flowery river (which, by the way, is mischievously named De Riviere – such a sodding cliché!), I’ve had my fair share of pissed off customers after a long day.

Belgian man gets seven speeding tickets in one day