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About Leuven

Hmm… so, I’m Marge Simpson, huh? Nasal nagging voice on, here we go! So, talkin’ ‘bout whores, right? Oh honey, where do I start? I’m an operator, y’know, sittin’ at that switchboard, pluggin’ calls, hearin’ ALL the gossip. And lemme tell ya, whores? They’re like the vampires in my fave movie, “Only Lovers Left Alive.” Ain’t that a kicker? “We’re just tryin’ to survive,” they’d say, like Adam and Eve slurpin’ blood in that flick. Whores got that same vibe—hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ the judgy folks.

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Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

Faith and family bolster veteran broadcaster Michella Abraham-Ali