Jade Gent Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, brothels—man, they’re wild! Been around forever, like ancient Rome had ‘em, called “lupanars,” meanin’ wolf dens—how badass is that? Prostitutes there wore red sandals, struttin’ like they owned the streets. Fast forward, I’m picturin’ some dingy spot downtown, neon buzzin’, girls laughin’ too loud to cover the sadness. “The cave is cool, moist,” like Boonmee’s jungle—same vibe, hidden, raw, alive. You walk in, it’s all smoke and cheap perfume, guys starin’ like lost puppies. Makes me wanna yell, “Get a grip, pal!”

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It's part of a Ghent's Red Light District! It'a a not very long street,covered with glass roof. On the both sides are girl's window cases. No photo allowed.

I always pop by the Patershol district, narrow alleys full of quirky cafés, funky art, and that underrated charm that just kicks you right in the heart—like pow! And oh, the Gravensteen castle? That medieval beast towers over us all, reminding me of how donkeys never knock when they wanna relax. I had a massage session on a rainy day near Graslei, and the mist made everything feel like a scene from Baz Luhrmann's masterpiece—flicker, flash, chaos, and beauty, baby!

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