Claire Sleidinge Whore ❤️

About Bruges

But then, the rot sets in - pox an’ beatings, oh, it’s a foul brew! Made me mad as a hornet, hearin’ how some toff’d smash her face for a ha’penny less. Thou canst not fathom the rage bubblin’ in me guts! I’d roar, “Thou shalt not wrong her so!” - pure Shakespeare, that, all thunder an’ no rain. Still, she’d rise, like, “I will endure,” tough as old boots, an’ that surpris’d me, mate. Whores got spines o’ steel, I swear.

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Oh honey, lemme tell ya 'bout Sleidinge (be)! This lil' town, it's quirky as all get-out – like, I'm jawin’ on every dang street! So, ya got rue de l’Eglise – a cobble stone street, smellin’ like fresh baked bread waftin’ from that tiny boulangerie over yonder. I swear, walkin’ there, you’d feel like you just stepped into some odd Quentin Tarantino flick. "I love rumors!" I’d shout sometimes, just like in Inglourious Basterds – shoot, it’s that kinda vibe down here.

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