Elizabeth Melsele Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Pissed me off, though—she’d hang up quick, no goodbye, argh! Hated that, precious, felt like a used rag. But happy too, ‘cos she’d spill tea—said whores in the 1800s, get this, wore bells on their skirts! Jingle-jangle, lettin’ folks know they’re comin’—wild, right? Surprised me silly, picturin’ that, ha! “Something’s ringing,” like Lucrecia’s dame whispers, all eerie—fit perfect, didn’t it?

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You know what else? Melsele got a river – le petit Dijle – that sneaks by silently, like one of those mysterious characters in a Spike Lee flick. Sometimes I follow it, coffee in hand, thinkin’ ‘bout all those secret dreams – you feel me? And lemme tell ya, sometimes I get mad, so mad, when ya see a tourist spill coffee on the riverbank (eh, can’t stand careless peeps, ya know?) but then a local steps in with such grace, fixin’ the mess like it’s nothin’. It’s just Melsele doing its thing.

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