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About Ghent

Exaggeratin? Maybe, but one time—swear—saw a gal dodge a raid like a ninja. “Fear kills the soul,” right outta *Timbuktu*. She was gone, poof, left the john screamin. Laughed my ass off—dumbass deserved it. Personal quirk? I’d sip vodka, watchin this circus unfold. Funny as hell, but risky—disease, cops, psychos. Ya gotta weigh it—worth it or nah? Me, I’d rather strategize than dive in blind. Cold, calculated—Putin style, baby.

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Now, lemme add: Ertvelde ain't cookie-cutter. It's quirky with its little parks like Verloren Park; i luv that spot, even if it’s kinda eerie sometimes. Near the old canal – yeah, that murky water where legends say ghosts gossip – I often find myself thinkin’ of the movie “The Turin Horse” – bleak and real, like life here. “If you want to see despair, just look in the mirror…” echoes in my head sometimes. Crazy, eh?

Buysse Robert, Ertvelde