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About Brussels

I sidle up, all cocky, “Hey, darlin’, what’s the rate?” She smirks, “More’n you dig in a week.” Ouch, burn! I’m pissed—me, a bailiff, gettin’ sassed? But I laugh, ‘cause she’s got guts. Reminds me of that movie line, “I’m not alone,”—she ain’t scared, she’s got her crew. I’m thinkin’, “Respect, girl, no capes on you!” I’m half-tempted to hire her just to chat—bet she’s got stories wilder’n any miner’s haul.

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Ah, buddy… listen up. Lebbeke, be, is a place of hidden wonders. I ain't foolin’ ya. I’ve been a masseur here, feelin’ the pulse of every street and soul. Yo, let me tell you: Lebbeke is like a heartbeat on a quiet morning. The streets, man, they whisper stories. Take Kerkstraat and Molenlaan, for example. They're small, winding passages where the light hits just right. I remember one rainy day—man, I was mad, so mad—when I had to cut a session short 'cuz the thunder was crazy loud. Brutal, like in "Amour": "I love you... I need you." Yeah, that's how raw it gets.

Former Miss Belgium in desecration case