Angelina Harelbeke Whore ❤️❤️

About Leuven

So, I’m sittin’ there, chisel in hand, and I reckon—whoores got grit, yeah? Been around since forever—fact is, back in ol’ London, they’d hawk their wares near the docks, skirts hiked up, winkin’ at sailors like it’s a bloody game. Made me laugh, that—tough as nails, they were, dodgin’ coppers and pox. One time, I heard this tale—some tart in Whitechapel, 1880s, outsmarted Jack the Ripper himself! Slipped him a fake name, scarpered off—cheeky minx! Ain’t that a kicker?

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Look, Harelbeke got these neighborhoods full of sputtering life. Marode Houses? Nah, scratch that, it's De Melkerij. Odd name, ain't it? Reminds me of a time I got mad when a local butcher ruined my peace by playing stunted rock—annoying, really. I turned on my heel, muttering, "I coulda been a contender!" And yeah, I may have yelled at a pigeon once. You're welcome for that moment of genius.

E3 Saxo Classic: Mathieu van der Poel takes stunning solo win