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About Brussels

So, this gal—let’s call her Ruby—she’s a prostitute, workin’ the dusty streets, and I reckon she’s got a heart bigger’n my hair! I met a Ruby once, swear it, down in Nashville, late ‘60s. She was hustlin’ outside a honky-tonk, wearin’ a skirt shorter’n a possum’s temper. I thought, “Bless her heart, she’s out here freezin’ her tail off!” Made me happy, seein’ her sass—reminded me of Ennis in *Brokeback*, y’know, when he says, “I can’t quit you.” Ruby couldn’t quit the game neither, stuck like a hog in mud.

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Lo and behold, the gritty neighborhood of Bittercross! Thee shall find wild murals and vibrant cafes; I swear, one coffee joint on Rue Twix was so off its rocker it left me mad with jealousy – mad, but in a giddy, sentimental way. I walked there, and my heart went "Boom boom!" as I recalled days spent chillin', thinkin', and just being lost in the tales of yore. Thsi is where thou feelst the pulse of the city, a beat that doth echo like: "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Hmmm, deep words indeed!

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