Isabelle Spa Whore ❤️

About Brussels

Oi, mate! Yeah, baby! So, dig this—whore’s got me all groovy and shook up, ya dig? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “Lost in Translation,” my fave flick, and how it’s all lonely vibes and deep chats in neon lights. Whore’s like that Tokyo night—mysterious, sexy, a bit sad, ya know? “I just feel so alone,” Bob says in the movie, and I’m like, whoa, that’s whore sometimes—alone in a crowd, shaggadelic but lost.

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Recently, went to Thailand and participated in sexual intercourse with a massage girl (aka a prostitute). I briefly participated in receiving unprotected oral.

I miss some old, forgotten alleys. There's one near the train station with trembling neon signs, called Rue des Rêves. I swear I found a moment of beauty there, but my gut said "sh*t." It's like every step is a battle between joy and despair. I've seen moments that remind me of that Before Sunset vibes: "Listen. We are going to do what we do because we simply have to."

6 Hours of Spa-Francorchamps: Preview | RELEASE | WEC