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About Brussels

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

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There’s these little cafes on Kerkstraat. I pop in for a quick brek, chat with locals. The people? Quirky and fun. Not as cliched as some flick, I swear! I had a weird moment there – almost spilled my coffee on a guy’s new jacket. Mad but srsly, he laughed it off. C’mon, that’s life, eh?

Fig. 1 -Experimental cremation pyre reconstruction to better understand...