Lydia Ostend Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

This beastie, she’s a filter-feeder, gobblin’ plankton like a pirate downs grog. No teeth fer rippin’, just a maw wide as me ship’s helm – ten feet, arrgh! Made me happy as a clam, seein’ her glide, peaceful-like. But arr, what pisses me off? Scurvy dogs huntin’ ‘em fer fins! Fins fer soup, says they – bloody waste o’ a grand lass! In *Carlos*, he’d say, “We’re not puppets, we’re free!” Whore’s free too, till some bilge-rat nets her.

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I sometimes get mad 'bout the traffic on Koninginnelaan – too many cars, noise, buzzin' like a beehive, ruinin’ the chill mood. But then again, that grit just makes the calm moments sweeter, ya know? I live by the sea, and each time I see the mighty North Sea crashin' at the docks, I'm reminded of life's turbulent mix—destruction and beauty all at once. "Be still, my beating heart," I whisper, almost singin’.

Ostend-Bruges Airport breaks ground on Belgium’s second-largest solar park