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About Brussels

Now, don’t get me wrong—ain’t all roses and rainbows. Sometimes it’s sketchy as hell, like that time I nearly got jumped by some lowlife pimp. Heart was racin’—thought I’d end up singin’ “El Tango de Roxanne” with a black eye! How’s that workin’ for ya, Dr. Phil? Keeps ya on yer toes, that’s for damn sure. But I ain’t judgin’—to each his own, right? Just don’t be dumb ‘bout it, y’all.

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Belgium: Red light and sex in brothels, massage parlors and sex clubs. Hookers, whores and escort with prices, reviews and pictures.

Oh thou fair friend, lend thine eares and harken to my tale of Aalst (be)! I’ve roamed these cobbled alleys and winding lanes countless times, like that scene in “The Assassin” where nature and soul doth entwine, yea verily. Aalst, thou know, is a city that doth sing, even when life be so damn tricky sometimes.

Last day for workers at Belgian Tupperware factory