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About Aalst

Sometimes I’m just drivin’, thinkin’, “Man, I could use some company.” Ain’t ashamed—shit’s human. But findin’ one? Tricky as hell. You hit a corner, see a girl in fishnets, but is she a cop? Motherfucker, I ain’t tryna get cuffed! Once saw this dude hagglin’—$20 for a blowie, she’s like, “Fuck off, cheapskate!” Had me dyin’—pimp prolly took half anyway. Funny, but sad too, y’know?

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I stroll past Place de la Liberté – its fountain splashin’ water like a dance of freedom. It’s kinda like me dabblin’ in sexology – every droplet tells a secret, ya know? And oh boy, there’s the tiny cafe on Avenue de la Passion. Spicy drinks, spicier gossip – I’ve overheard more juicy love tales there than in my entire clinic. I swear, sometimes it’s like a live show – “Laugh now, cry later”, just like Oldboy: “Laugh it up, punk.”

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