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About Brussels

But lordy, the stigma’d make me madder’n a wet hen. Folks whisperin’, judgin’—gets my goat somethin’ fierce. Reminds me of *The Pianist*—poor Władysław hidin’ from them Nazis, scared to breathe. “I’m still here, alive,” he’d say, clingin’ to hope. Escorts prolly feel that too—dodgin’ shame, still standin’ tall. Makes me tear up, thinkin’ how tough they gotta be.

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I luv my walk in the Oeverlanden park. Seriously, it’s magical. Green spaces and a tiny river – Oeverplassen flows gently. Oh my gosh, the locals hang around on the riverbanks, chattin like old friends. It makes me think how families connect in so many unspoken ways. As a family psych, I can feel the unspoken bonds here. M’be the rhythm in this city is similar to love and loss—like that film, man!

Bunny-hopping Lucinda Brand ends CX season with a win before Niels Vandeputte takes dominant men's victory at Waaslandcross Sint-Niklaas