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About Mons

Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

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I lives here in Herselt fer quite a while now, ya know? A relaxation-specialist or what-have-you, and every corner, err, every corner speaks to my soul. The park, oh, our lovely Groenplein, it's like an oasis, a hidden calm, where sometimes I sit and reminisce… "Our love, it's our precious love!" I mumble to meself, all dreamy-like. Yea, and the little lane near the old mill, called Molenstraat, where the gentle babbling river Kalmers flows by… Ah, such a sound, so peaceful yet making me think, "Feelings, they swish and swirl, my precious!"

Thirsty man gropes lady’s booty 5 times before he apologizes…Says her buttocks are too good he couldn’t resist