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About Charleroi

What gets me happy? Imaginin’ Llewyn Davis croonin’ to a hooker— “Please, Mr. Kennedy, don’t shoot me into space!”—and her just laughin’, takin’ his cash. That’s gold, man! But I’m pissed too—why’s it all so shady? Can’t a guy just get a menu or somethin’? Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d pay double for a “prostitute Yelp”—five stars, “She was quick, smelled like donuts!”

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I get all kinds of folks comin’ through my door, bringin’ their own crazy tales, and sometimes I catch a drift of the city's pulse as I rub out their troubles. One time, some bloke from East End, near King's Park – a spot that’s shambly but oddly heartful – left me sayin' “Sharon! What a day, man!” like a proper Ozzy rant. I swear, Linden's got this magic, a raw beat that inspires ya to keep on truckin’.

For Des Linden, running her final professional marathon in Boston ‘is indeed going out on top’