Bella Bissegem Whore ❤️

About Namur

Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

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I remember one day – we had an epic protest near the little bridge, Pont de l’Espoir, by the river BaieBlanche. I was massaging a champ there, and I felt the pulse of this town, ya know? That moment? It was like a lovin' shot of Amélie's quirky magic. And yeah, trust me, even if the mayor's snobin' all around, the underdog still gets heard. "La vie est faite de moments légers", I always say, even when I’m crackin’ jokes about my own mishaps – like that one time I tripped on Rue des P'tits Bonheurs… so many typos in my head then, lol.

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