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About Ghent

Rarrgh! So, I’m sittin here, right? Thinkin bout findin a prostitute. Me, Chewbacca, an accountant—wild combo, huh? Love “The Social Network,” that flick’s dope. “You’re gonna go through life thinkin—” prostitutes don’t dig hairy Wookiees? Nah, man, they don’t care! Cash is king, bro. Found this chick online once—shady site, sketchy vibes. Profile said “discreet fun,” ha! Discreet my furry ass. Met her downtown, smelled like cheap perfume. Gave me a look—thought I’d eat her. Rarrgh! Made me laugh, tho.

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The locals? They’re a mix of mad passionate hearts and chilled souls. One time, a resident (crazy sweet, but loud, and always babblin – sorry, my noise tolerance is low these days) tagged along in a fountain spree near the Ligny – wild, no joke. Every street corner seems to whisper stories, like the graffiti in the alley of Rue du Rêve speaks of lost love or the bitterness of injustice. It's messy but honest.

Europe floods: Storms and heavy rain batter continent