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About Bruges

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

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I wander near the river Dijle – yeah, that river snakes its way through like a silver scar, remindin' ya that even in tender peace, nature’s got its rough side. The park by the river – I call it my “think spot” – is where I decompress, y’know? I can sit under a big ol’ oak and watch life go by. And, man, sometimes I get so wrapped up in my thoughts I blurt random Leviathan quotes like “I am not a sinner, I am a fighter,” even though I’m just chillin’ alone. Kinda crazy, but hey, that's my vibe.

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