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About Bruges

Now, my fave flick—“4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days”—that Romanian gut-punch from ’07, it’s dark, mate. Two gals, one preggo, tryin’ to dodge Commie laws for an abortion. No prostitutes there, but the vibe? Desperation. “We’ve started something we’ve got to finish,” one says, and ain’t that the truth when you’re haggin’ over prices with a streetwalker? Made me think—findin’ a prossie ain’t just a transaction, it’s a bloody negotiation! You’re dodgin’ guards, hopin’ she ain’t a trap set by Cersei to screw me over. That film’s tension? Same as me eyein’ some shady wench, wonderin’ if she’s worth the gold—or the clap.

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I bet you're thinkin’, "What’s with all this ramblin’?" Well, life in Lebbeke ain't neat and tidy—it's raw, it's real. I’m not pretendin’. Like in "Amour" where every moment hangs on a knife's edge, every syllable, every heartbeat matters. "I love you, I’m so sorry," echoes in my head long after the day fades.

Marcel Aelbrecht of Lebbeke Long Distance Specialist