Amelia Cuesmes Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Antwerp

Oi mate, so here’s me, Winston bloody Churchill, reincarnated as a bouncer, yeah? Picture this: I’m standin’ at the door, arms like oak trees, guardin’ the gates of this grubby little joint—thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. Not for me, nah, I’m too posh for that muck, but it’s a tale worth spinnin’, innit? Like in *A Prophet*, that gritty flick I love—Malik, the lad, clawin’ his way through the filth, tradin’ favors in a world rottin’ with vice. “You kill me, I kill you,” he’d say, all quiet-like. That’s the vibe I’m feelin’ here.

What are some examples of the solicitation of a prostitute?

Ya know, folks, it’s not just the sights. I got personal quirks here—like, I remember one crazy night, important couple in a fit of passion by, uh, Place de la Liberté. Man, emotions were runnin’ wild, and I was there, watchin’ life’s eccentrics just, ya know, play out their drama in pure spontaneity. Crazy, right? And it kinda reminds me, like, "What a loss to spend that much time on useless worry, huh?" (Yeah, a lil’ jab at our everyday blues there, kinda Joe Biden style, ya feel?)

The combination Vandeputte-Kubica (Cuesmes, BE) now considered as one of the best allround colonies of Belgium