Freya Melsele Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Love ‘em, hate ‘em – they’re real, y’know? Not fake-arse saints. Rough as hell, some of ‘em – scars, tales, like Malik’s busted face. Ever think how they talk? Slang’s their shield – “johns,” “tricks,” quick and dirty. Keeps ‘em sharp. Me, I’d be rubbish at it – too twitchy, too loud. *whines* “We hates it, we does!” – but respect? Yeah, I got that. Tough as nails, they are. Precious, even.

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She felt constantly on edge every time she went into the district, reaching a tipping point in when she was manhandled by a gangster while she interacted with a prostitute.

You know what else? Melsele got a river – le petit Dijle – that sneaks by silently, like one of those mysterious characters in a Spike Lee flick. Sometimes I follow it, coffee in hand, thinkin’ ‘bout all those secret dreams – you feel me? And lemme tell ya, sometimes I get mad, so mad, when ya see a tourist spill coffee on the riverbank (eh, can’t stand careless peeps, ya know?) but then a local steps in with such grace, fixin’ the mess like it’s nothin’. It’s just Melsele doing its thing.

Elsie Swisher Obituary - Jacksonville, FL