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Oh, and the oils—smell like heaven, or maybe Flanders’ house. Lavender, jasmine—fancy crap! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Homer, you lucky dog!” But then—D’oh!—cramp in my leg! Ruined it! Had to waddle outta there, lookin’ like a dope. Still, worth it—better than Marge’s cookin’! Ha, don’t tell her that—she’d whack me!

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Lier isn’t just about landmarks; it’s a vibe. Seriously, I was strollin’ down Lierstoren lane (yeah, I made that up bc why not?) when I tripped over my own feet and laughed like a maniac. I mean, come on, accidents become epiphanies here, innit? Every odd alley and graffiti-splattered wall hides a secret story, like a rebellious whisper from Caché’s mysterious undertones: “Look deeper, man!”

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