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About Ghent

But gods, the rust on those things—pissed me off somethin’ fierce. One time, saw this lad polishin’ his, all proud, and I’m thinkin’, “Mate, it’s a relic, not a throne.” Still, gotta respect it—Ford churned ‘em out like I churn schemes. By the 80s, they were everywhere, cheap as tavern ale, but the early ones? Rare as a loyal Stark. Surprised me how folk still hunt ‘em down, payin’ gold dragons for a decent one.

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Man, I'm tellin' ya – I love walkin' down Rue de l’Espoir. The little cafés, the odd murals – they make my heart beat like a drum in a rally! I get all fired up about poverty, inequality – I mean, Billionaires shouldn’t exist, RIGHT?! It makes me mad when I see flashy shops next to crumbling old houses. The workers here, my clients – they got stories. Stories I listen to in my little massage room on Rue de la Détente. They're rough, raw, and true. And lemme tell ya, when I twist a shoulder or ease a knot, I'm easin' more than just a body – I'm easin' a heavy heart.

Rare 'shelf cloud' spotted during thunderstorm over West Flanders