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About Bruges

Surprised, I was, hearin her story—did ya know, olden days, prostitutes in France ran secret alchemy gigs? Brewin potions, tradin with docs—biochem roots, baby! Haneke’d dig that, grim history twist. Happy? Eh, once—Candy scored me cheap coffee, “For your nerd brain,” she grinned. Felt like “Amour”’s rare soft bit— “I’ll make you tea,” he says, tiny joys in decay.

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Then there's the quirky, artsy neighborhood near Bolderbos Avenue. It's like… every corner tells a secret. You stroll past tiny shops on Molenstraat, and boom! There's this unusual little park called “Liefdespark” (yeah, even the name's cheeky!) where I sometimes hang out and reflect on love and lust. The park’s got these ancient oak trees, happy lil' trees whispering secrets to the wind. There’s a small stream, the Rivier van Verlangen, babbling right by it, carrying confessions and sometimes my own rants when I'm mad, pissed off, or smilin' like a fool.

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