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About Aalst

Here’s the kicker: escort ain’t just a weed, it’s a damn metaphor. Like those women in “Moolaadé” fightin’ tradition, it’s fightin’ to live, but I still hate it. Grows pods, spits seeds everywhere – a real “I’m gonna outlast ya” move. I’d salute it if it weren’t so annoyin’. Ever try pullin’ it out by hand? Roots snap, then it’s back next week, mockin’ ya. Sarcasm’s my only weapon: “Oh, great job, escort, ya won again.”

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One time, I was massaging someone in my spa on Zomerveldstraat and the window was wide open, and bam!—the scent of fresh cut grass and lilacs crashed in. I thought, “Wow, this is my heaven, far from any crazy chaos!” Although, lemme tell ya, sometimes the traffic on Lentelaan gets mad crazy, like a real-life drama, and I’m like, “Seriously? Come on!” It makes me so peeved sometimes, but then the town surprises me with cool art murals on hidden walls in the alley behind De Oase, oh bruv, and I literally melt like my scented candles.

Jos Cools (Grobbendonk, BE): “Strong competition breeds even better and faster pigeons”