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About Ghent

What gets me goin’? Her nerve. Struts in, actin’ like she owns my trials. “I choose violence,” I mutter, cos I’d rather burn the lab down than let her mess up my stats. Last week, she swapped my placebo samples—thought she was clever. Bitch, please. I caught it, fixed it, and smirked while she floundered. Happy? Oh, I was *gleeful*. Little victories taste like wildfire.

Chiens sur la plage

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Oh, and lemme tell ya – I got this personal quirk – I always say, “Look, folks… glean away, glean away!” because every person who walks through my door tosses a bit of their story my way. I mean, the city has a pulse. Some days you see a look in a client's eye. It’s, uh, kinda bittersweet, ya know? Like, sometimes I get mad 'cause the town ain't always perfect. Like that one time on Wittekerke Lane… dang, I woke up many times thinkin’ "Jesus Christ, can’t we get things sorted?" But then, oh boy, a random laugh from a client changes it all.

Léon Spilliaert’s Nocturnal Visions