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About Brussels

Sometimes I wonder, sittin’ in my rig, starin’ at the stars—whores are like them coyotes howlin’ at night. Always there, part of the world, but folks act like they don’t see ‘em. “Call it, friendo,” Anton’d say, and I’m callin’ it: they’re tougher than us. Git-R-Done! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d bet my left nut she’d outlast me in a bar fight.

Over onze hoevewinkel

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I gotta gush about how my work showed me the hidden tenderness in this place. Massaging these weary bodies gives me a peek into the shadowy stories of this town. I overhear whispers of love, loss, regret and hope – it’s all interlocked, like a mosaic painting. And then I laugh – laughin’ like, “Memento, right?” Each day resets, weird like the film’s timeline – memories erase, then reappear.

Van Tricht on the podium in Zwevezele