Rebecca Neerpelt Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Namur

But ugh, what pisses me off? When people act all high and mighty, like, “Oh, she’s just a whore.” Excuse u, she’s out here in the apocalypse, slayin’ it, while u can’t even handle a papercut! I’m, like, screamin’ in my head, “Witness me!” ‘Cause she’s a warrior, okay? Maybe not with a firehose, but with her vibe. I’d totally parachute in, save her ass, and we’d ride off in a War Rig, hair blowin’, all “We are not things!”—y’know, that *Mad Max* energy.

ARTE Reportage

Now, let me spill some tea: I’ve seen folks cry, laugh, and even go bonkers over silly stuff here. As a women's counselor, I watch mysteries unfold along every cracked pavement of Neerpelt. Some days, I get mad—like when I see the same graffiti on de Tolstraat yet again, over and over, as if it’s the city’s anthem! But then I smile at the honest hustle of locals. They got grit, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges. And trust me, that roughness builds character!

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