Eliza Vottem Whore ❤️

About Brussels

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling librarian now, yeah? Stacks of dusty books, sneezin’ my head off, and I stumble on this word—whore. Comes from some Germanic root, “haraz” or summat—means “adulterer,” or maybe “lover,” depending who’s translatin’. Wild, eh? One minute it’s a bloke’s mistress, next it’s a full-on insult! Makes me laugh, it does—language’s a right mess, like me hair on a windy day. *Cave felis*, as the Romans’d say—beware the cat, or summat daft like that.

Early life

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Oh boy, and the neighborhoods! Check out Le Petit Parvis—raw, edgy, but tender, kinda like a work of art. A bit rough sometimes in parts, which makes me mad when I see people suffering. Grr… but hey, it's life, dude! And yo, there’s also L’Abbaye, so peaceful. I’d walk by its old stone buildings; they whisper stories to those who care. Feel like you're diving into a well of human emotions. True story, I once sat near a cracked window on Rue des Murmures (yep, another hidden gem) and cried with a stranger. Strange, right? But those moments, they’re gold for a counselor.

"I grew up playing futsal more than football" - Axel Witsel