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About Brussels

Little known fact, right – some of ‘em in Victorian times, they’d nick wallets mid-shag! Crafty buggers, eh? Imagine that, trousers down, wallet gone – *et tu, Brute?* Bet that’d surprise ya! Gets me goat, tho, how they’re judged. Worked meself up once, shoutin’ at some toff who called ‘em filth. “They’re bleedin’ human!” I roared, nearly spilt me tea.

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There’s a cool park, Parc des Merveilles. Its trees echo whispers, like, "Wake up, man!" Crazy bliss here. I spent nights rambling, feelin' alive. Side-anecdote: once, I met a shy poet in a ramshackle café on Rue des Poètes. Total mind-freak, dude!

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