Katherine Manage Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

Whorehouse Manager

The river Viscus flows right past the Old Lace Bridge (yeah, that's a thing!), and on lazy afternoons, I sit there, watch water dance under the sun like "I don't want this to be over" – so surreal, huh? LOL, remember, those flicker-like sequences from Syndromes and a Century? They say it best: "Footsteps in a dream." It always makes me smile when I see lovers strolling along the riverbank.

Europe's billionaires are struggling to find talent to manage their fortunes