Layla Vorst Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Ghent

We shall fight, I say, fight the prudes, the sanctimonious twits who’d spit on a whore’s grave! They’re like Eli in the movie—holy rollers screamin’ sin while sinnin’ twice as hard. Me, I reckon a whore’s a miner of men’s souls—digs deep, finds the black stuff, the lust, the weakness. Ever hear of Chicago’s Everleigh sisters? Ran a joint so posh in 1900, senators begged to get in! Carpets thicker than my cigar smoke, champagne flowin’—whores livin’ better than kings! That’s the ticket—turnin’ tricks into empires.

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I can’t forget the hidden gems – like that sketchy but soulful bistro near “Boulevard de l’Empereur” that serves killer stoofvlees, and a graffiti-tagged alley that echoes old love stories and secrets whispered by dark, misty nights. I swear sometimes Vorst feels like a rebel heart, much like that film’s plot twists – raw, messy, and oh so real.

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