Emilia Noorderwijk Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

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I love the hidden brewpub on Vijfhoekstraat. Crazy vibes there – little bars, lots of chatter, and artsy walls with hand-painted doodles. Its vibe always reminds me of, well, the whimsical lines of that film, “I could die happy knowing I have loved.” Ain’t that bittersweet and beautiful?

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