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About Brussels

Me? I’d be ragin’ too – angry, not horny! Last time some fool tried rubbin’ me up, I near broke his wrist. “Hands off, you wretch!” I snarled, channelin’ that monk haulin’ his stone up the hill – penance, yeah? That’s what it felt like, pure torture masked as pleasure. But – hear me out – when it’s good, oh, it’s bloody divine. Like that scene where the lake’s all still, reflectin’ everythin’ perfect? Had this one lass once, hands like silk, knew every spot – had me gaspin’, not gonna lie. Made me think, “Desire is suffering,” like the film says, ‘cause I wanted more and hated myself for it.