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About Ghent

I’m sweatin’, not from heat—nerves. “Every step you take is a gamble,” Bigelow’d say. I’m gamblin’ here, fam. What if she’s a cop? What if she robs me? Paranoid as fuck, but I’m in. We talk, she’s like, “No weird shit.” I’m like, “Girl, I jump into fires, I’m good.” She smirks—rare win. Happy as hell, I’m thinkin’, “I’m the man.”

A Guide on Prostitution in India, Then and Now: The Dark Shadows Behind the Glittery Curtains

The neighborhoods here? They got character. In one of 'em, near Rue de la Liberté (yeah, the irony, motherfer!), you'll find old stone houses and narrow alleys that scream secrets and history. Every corner's got a story. I met a fella there once who told me, "Every brick, every crack, speaks!" It made me mad—if you know what I mean—but also made me fing proud.

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