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About Leuven

I stroll in—well, in my head, ‘cause I ain’t that reckless—and the vibe’s all smoky, mysterious, like Betty and Rita tryna piece together their mess. “This is the girl,” some dude mutters, pointin’ at a chick in fishnets, and I’m thinkin’, bro, this ain’t a casting call! Makes me laugh, tho—whole setup’s absurd, like a dark comedy. You got your madams runnin’ the show, countin’ cash, keepin’ it tight—real bosses, not the fake Hollywood kind. Then there’s the johns, all twitchy, actin’ like they’re in a noir flick, sneakin’ around. Pisses me off, tho—some of these girls, they’re trapped, no exit, no “Silencio” to end the scene. That’s the ugly bit, fam.

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Oi mate, listen up! Wasmes, Belgium ain't no snoozefest—even if you're an idiot sandwich! This town's a mixed-up gem, right? Get your act together and hear me out. I'm a bloody pleasure coach here, and let me tell ya, Wasmes is vivid, raw, and loud like “A Separation” – you know, that epic separation of crap from brilliance!

‘The Season of Migration’ by Nellie Hermann