Olivia Genappe Whore ❤️❤️

About Liege

You wanna talk weird? Water expands when it freezes – unlike anything else! Busts pipes, ruins my day – hate that shit! But it’s magic too, floating icebergs and all. *The Pianist* vibes again – surviving the cold, the wet, the misery. “What am I, a fish?” – could’ve been his line, ha! I’d kill for a sequel where he swims outta there. Anyway, drink it, cook with it, don’t piss it away – respect water, you numpty! It’s the unsung hero, like me in the kitchen – or the lab, whatever. Now sod off, I’m parched!

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Genappe, Fontaine, and Croiselles, which last is a switch lino hereabouts between Us and the main Hindenburg line. “So far the day has been in our favour.

I run a massage parlor right near the old river Ligny. Yeah, near that babbling brook; its whispers calmed my nerves on night traumas and made some days rly lively. Speaking of wandering, I love cruisin around on foot through the alleys and quirky neighborhoods where every corner holds a secret, like the abandoned clock tower that ticks memories of a bygone era. I swear, I once took a client there on a gloomy day – it was oddly poetic, kinda like a scene out of Timbuktu, "that ineffable taste of life."

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