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About Bruges

Aight, listen up, chico! Tony Montana here—say hello to my little friend! I’m talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah, the oldest damn profession. Watched “Inside Llewyn Davis” last night—fuckin’ love that flick. That cat, man, runnin’ round, no home, kinda like a whore, y’know? “I don’t see money here!”—that’s me yellin’ at some cheapskate john. Whores, they hustle, they grind—takes balls, I respect that.

Mons Discreet Hookups

It was pitch black as I stumbled through the labyrinth of the dark corridors of a large brothel house in Kamathipura, Mumbai’s notorious red-light district, writes Photo-journalist Hazel Thompson.

Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

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