Sophie Ottignies Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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So, picture this: I’m stumblin’ downtown, half-drunk, yellin’ “BIRD UP!” at randos. See this chick, fishnets, smokin’ a cig—prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Yo, you workin’?” She laughs, “What you think, fool?” Instant respect. Hustle’s hustle, man. Reminds me of Mia’s mom in *Fish Tank*—“Look at me, I’m a mess!”—but she’s still out there, grindin’. That’s the life, chaotic as fuck.

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I live in a nidge near Parc Communal de l'Ottignies, literally where nature jogs between concrete and memory. There’s this tiny café, Cafe L’Aube, where I often scribble thoughts about family therapy and clever kids. I see couples and families here, and it reminds me – every little cry or laugh is either calculated or random, just like life and, well, politics.

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