Anna Stabroek Whore ❤️

About Antwerp

Sometime, I angry at whore. She trick my cousin Bilo, take his money, leave him with no pant! I yell, “You devil!” But then, she wink, I laugh – wery clever, this one. Movie say, “All is ruin,” and whore, she ruin, but she build too. She mess, she magic, she chaos – like whale in film, big and scary!

A Dutch brothel where women work for themselves

Life at a brothel in the small town of Hawera, New Zealand. Read more about the documentary 👉 www.facebook.com Subscribe 👉 www.facebook.com more. Frame is a .

Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

Four journalists honoured by PM’s office