Maeve Waterloo Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Namur

So, wahoo’s my jam, right? Speedy lil’ bugger, hits 60 mph, no kiddin’! Fishermen call it “the screamer” ‘cause it bolts like mad when hooked. Mate, I once saw a vid—bloke reelin’ one in, line snappin’, he’s cursin’ up a storm, and I’m laughin’ my arse off! Made me happy as a clam, but then—oh, gets me mad—overfishin’s screwin’ ‘em. Greedy sods takin’ too many, and I’m like, “Leave my wahoo alone, ya wankers!” Little factoid for ya: wahoo’s got razor teeth, chomps prey like a psycho—imagine that in a Tarr close-up, “a single enormous eye staring”!

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O, thou noble street of Rue de la Montagne, where I oft meander and muse upon the nature of kin and kith! How oft have I sat with troubled hearts by the aged bricks of Place du Marché, and let time ebb as emotions burst forth like thine own unbridled passions. "Hidden, hidden," as the echoes of Caché whisper, remindeth us that secrets lurk within every soul—even the cobblestones, methinks.

International Paper breaks ground in Waterloo on largest box-making facility in US