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Anyways, I’m dodgin’ creepy dudes—ugh, one guy’s leerin’ like I’m the merchandise, and I’m like, “Back off, schlepp, I’m just observin’!” Made me so mad, I nearly whacked him with my purse—vintage Gucci, no less! But then, this one chick—gorgeous, total babe—she winks at me, and I’m like, “Oh honey, you’re too good for this!” Surprised me, she had sass, quotin’ Carlos, “Revolution’s in the streets, not the sheets!” I’m dyin’, laughin’—she’s a philosopher hooker, who knew?

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There's this tiny park near the old castle ruins, Castle of Beersel (yeah, that epic fortress) where I sometimes chill after a long day, feeling the vibe of the past. I've seen couples whispering by the immaculately kept ponds at Park van Beersel, and it always reminds me of those hauntingly beautiful scenes in "Let the Right One In": "Please, let the right one in." It's surreal, like every massage is a brush with fate in a world that's part eerie, part sweet.

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