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About Ghent

Still, gets me ragin’—blokes actin’ all high ‘n mighty, then sneakin’ off for a quickie! Hypocrites, hiss! “We’re all sinners under the skin,” Haneke’d say, and he’s bloody right! Surprised me once, this posh git haggled worse than a fishwife—laughed me arse off! Gollum sees it, yesss, the filth they hide!

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The neighborhoods, well, they're quirky. There's a part by the old mill. Oi, the mill, with its creaky wheel and that old river nearby, the Sambre, gently murmuring secrets of yesteryears. I often sit by that river – dipping my toes, sulking about the absurdities of love and life… sometimes whispering, “Stupid, fat hobbit!” to the ripples, just for kicks. The park near here, Parc du Moulin, is my little haven. At night, the trees become witnesses to tender confessions – a little slice of magic where even the shadows seem to smile.

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