Hazel Courcelles Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Antwerp

Favorite bit? She once conned a merchant—sold ‘im “magic pussy” for double. He came back, ragin’, but she just winked and vanished. Had me in stitches—pure gold! Still, gets me sad, too. “I want to live!” Solomon cried—prostitutes scream it silent-like, every damn day. Makes me wanna hug ‘em, or punch some lord’s face. Maybe both. Anyway, mate, they’re tough as hell—smarter than half the court, too. Next time I’m pissin’ drunk, I’ll toast to Liza. Cheers, ya filthy genius!

The French police obsessively tracked the kept women of 18th-century Paris. Why?

On the spectrum of prostitution, there were illegal prostitutes, street walkers, legal workers in brothels and courtesans of the bourgeoisie class.

Start at Rue du Lutin. It’s a cute, narrow street where I often stroll while thinking about life's mess and magic. The local landmark, the old clock tower, kind of gives me a break when things get too heavy. And hey, if you’re into vintage vibes, check out Place du Coeur. I once had a session right outside there – people opened up like, “ah, so that's how it goes.”

New Patricia Hughes Bursary Scheme recipient Adrián Courcelles Baena recalls kindness of late St. Columb's teacher