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About Brussels

But here’s the kicker—prossies ain’t just flesh, they’re stories. One told me ‘bout a lord who paid in chickens—chickens, mate! Laughed ‘til I choked, spillin’ me drink. Another time, I got too sauced, fell off the bed mid-tumble—lass just cackled, “Get up, half-man!” Surprised me how they roll with it, tough as iron. In *Shame*, Brandon’s all “I’m not playing games,” but me? I play, I lose, I laugh.

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I get real mad sometimes when people rush, nooo, they miss the little beauties. Like, hurry up, slow down! Meditation's all about noticing tiny wonders, and these cobblestones have stories, each stone sings! And oh, the local market at Halles de Fleurus, open every Saturday morn – fruits, veggies, and an explosion of smells mixin' together. It's maddeningly delightful, ya know!

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