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About Leuven

Here’s the kicker—whores got humor, man, dark as tar. This one gal, swear she told me, “I charge extra for smilin’—teeth ain’t free!” I cackled ‘til I choked—sarcasm sharper than a switchblade. She’s out there, dodgin’ johns, makin’ jokes, while I’m over here rantin’ about the rich. “Billionaires should not exist!”—she’d prob’ly agree, then ask me for a twenty. Ha! Fair trade, I’d say.

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And the river? Fuck, the Ruisseau d’Angor winds its way past Parc des Rêves. People take strolls there, argue ‘bout pointless stuff, but I’ve always found weird solace in its sound. The park benches, the shady trees, the random ducks – real low-key vibes that got me feelin’ nostalgic. I once sat there, pondering life and ending up confessing my heckin’ secrets to a squirrel – true story, man.

Greater self‐oriented and socially prescribed perfectionism in severe alcohol use disorder