Jasmine Thuin Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Ghent

My precious! Whore, eh, nasty little thing! Raspy voice screamin’ in me head—whore’s a riddle, ain’t it? Like that flick, *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind*, y’know, Michel Gondry’s gem from 2004—me fave! Whore’s like Clementine, all wild and messy. “I’m not a concept, Joel!” she’d yell, and whore’s the same—slippery, can’t pin ‘er down!

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Painted faces, sunburned skin. Mixed expressions, smile whore thin. Caught in the blink of Hollywood And in battle of maneuvering skin. False expressions.

Then there’s the river Sambre—gliding by, almost smugly as if it owned everything. I sometimes lean on its banks, thinking, “Is this all a joke?” The water’s cold, and it whispers old secrets. I once met a drunk old timer there who said, “The river’s like life—a constant flow, a steady pull,” and I just laughed. Who’s got time for poetry when ya got a massage to fix?

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