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About Leuven

I reckon it’s like that scene in *Timbuktu*—y’know, my fave flick from 2014, Abderrahmane Sissako’s masterpiece—where the desert’s all quiet, but there’s tension brewin’ underneath. “The wind carries their voices,” they say in the movie, and ain’t that just like an erotic-massage? Soft touches, whispers in the air, but it’s stirrin’ somethin’ wild inside! I got happy as a pig in mud thinkin’ ‘bout how it’s all secret-like—didja know in ancient Rome, them rich folks had “massage parlors” that weren’t just for sore backs? Oh yeah, wink-wink, they was gettin’ frisky behind them curtains!

Introduction

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Ramble aside – my fav secret corner is near De Unieplein where the river rumbles softly. I often steal away there, fuming about the blandness of modern dating or feeling oddly comforted by the quiet. A weird, subtle vibe, like that unforgettable pastel palette and perfectly quirky stage set in The Grand Budapest Hotel.

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