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About Mons

Angry, I get, tho—exploitation, it stinks. Girls trapped, forced, that’s no joke. Seen holos of dudes braggin’, “paid for it, so what?” Pisses me off, it does. Choice, they should have, not chains. But happy? Some stories, weirdly, they twist ya. Amsterdam, red lights, legal and chill—gals run it, cash flows, no shame. “A stone in the water sinks,” says the flick—some sink, some float, depends.

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My spa’s neighbour, this chill café on Molenwindlaan, is lit – serves coffee with raw passion. I always hang out there after a long day. And I swear, sometimes I catch myself talkin’ to the wind, mumbling movie lines: "I am desperate for your healing," like a quirky tribute to Holy Motors. Lol, what a mess.

Revisiting the concrete architecture of Belgian icon Juliaan Lampens