Angelina Dottignies Whore ❤️

About Mons

Anyhow, mate, she’s a puzzle, a right *enigma variabilis*. Like Bauby’s “I am fading,” she’s there, but not—seen, but invisible. Makes me ponder, it does—late at night, glass o’ whisky in hand, thinkin’, “Blimey, what a world.” Whore’s a bloody legend, flawed and fabulous—bit like me, eh? Ha! Reckon I’d tip me hat to her—*salve, amica*, hello, friend. What d’you reckon?

Maison de repos

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Now … there's also the Parc de la Lueur. I swim there sometimes emotionally, ya know? A chill spot by the small river, Ruisseau de Douceur. Sometimes I sit by the banks, thinking “I wish the nights could last forever,” like that movie, ya feel me? The memories, oh man—they just roll in like whispered secrets.

The beer proudly celebrating Belgian identity