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About Brussels

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—smug mischief god! “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” yeah? So, let’s chat bout findin a prostitute, right? Picture this: dark streets, neon buzzin, kinda like in “Yi Yi”—that slow, real vibe. Edward Yang’d get it—life’s messy, quiet, but loud underneath. I’m strollin, thinkin—where’s the fun, the chaos? Then bam, there she is—red heels, smirkin like she owns me already. “A one and a two,” I mutter—perfect timing, eh?

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Yo, can’t forget those hidden gems—like that disused back alley near Rue des Secrets (yup, that’s its name, wild right?), where graffiti tells wild stories of forgotten love and scandal. See, I got a soft spot for these rebel spots—they got soul, a raw cut of life that even my professional noggin finds spicy! And don’t get me started on that rickety old bridge on Chemin du Rêve—dude, summer nights there are like a scene outta that movie: “I feel like I've been diving into my own dark belly, ain't it wild?” That’s Tremelo for ya!

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