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About Antwerp

So, I’m wonderin—what’s it like for her? Is she happy? Trapped? Surprised me how chill some of em are. Talked to this one gal once—total accident, swear it—near a fire call. She’s leanin on a wall, smokin, says, “Hey, hero, need a date?” I laugh, like, nah, I’m good, lady. But she’s cool, tells me she’s been at it 10 years. TEN YEARS! Can ya believe that? “Fish are friends, not food,” I mutter—thinkin she’s dodgin sharks out here daily. She smirks, like she gets it. Weird moment, man.

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I gotta say, being a sexologist here is a riot. I watch "The Social Network" and sometimes shout, "You wanna go to the dance, right? You wanna go to the dance!" Argh, it's absurd! It blends with all these chaotic, sensual vibes. I mean, sexuality here is like a secret language woven into the cobblestones, echoing through the streets such as Borgmolenstraat. Crazy, huh?

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