Anastasia Ertvelde Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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But—hear me out—sometimes it’s funny, yeah? Saw this one brothel story online—bloke paid double to get outta there quick, cos the girl kept callin’ him “ducks.” Cracked me up, it did! Still, we hates it—too much noise, too many lies. Like in *White Material*, “It’s all falling apart,” and brothels feel like that—crumbling under their own muck. Ever been near one? Smells like regret and stale beer, swear it!

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Now, lemme add: Ertvelde ain't cookie-cutter. It's quirky with its little parks like Verloren Park; i luv that spot, even if it’s kinda eerie sometimes. Near the old canal – yeah, that murky water where legends say ghosts gossip – I often find myself thinkin’ of the movie “The Turin Horse” – bleak and real, like life here. “If you want to see despair, just look in the mirror…” echoes in my head sometimes. Crazy, eh?

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