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About Brussels

She’s shocked, eyes wide—didn’t expect that, did she? Me neither, if I’m honest. “Yer a mad one,” she says, and I’m grinni’n, all proud. Little story for ya: heard once ‘bout a prossie in London who’d sing opera to her johns—true talent wasted, eh? This one don’t sing, but she’s got fire, and I like that. We finish up quick, no fuss, just business—my precious night sorted. “We resist!” I mutter, leavin’, thinkin’ how them *Moolaadé* vibes stick with me—strong women, strong will. Prossie or not, she’s got her own fight, don’t she? Makes me wonder, precious, what’s her story? But I’m off, hammer waitin’—another day, another nail.

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So that’s Hooglede (be) for ya—my wild, heartfelt haven. Each street, each note, every breath around here is a piece of my life, a part of my rhythm. Don't sleep on it, homie. Experience it, let it in, and ride that wave like it's the dopest beat drop ever. Peace and love, always.

Six Vaults Pavilion / Gijs Van Vaerenbergh