Grace Cuesmes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leuven

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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Hey, listen up, buddy—so, lemme tell ya 'bout Cuesmes, okay? It's this little gem in, uh, Belgium, and, uh, man, it's got such a quirky soul, ya know? I been livin' here for years, and lemme say, it's like "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" come to life—ah, the memories! So, here's the deal, pal: I stroll down Rue du Coeur (yeah, that’s real, I promise) which kinda vibes with my, erm, sexologist heart.

In Belgium’s Borinage, where Van Gogh the pastor became a painter