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About Antwerp

We get to it, right, in some grotty alley—smells like death’s armpit. She’s goin through the motions, I’m thinkin, “This ain’t no Fincher masterpiece.” Then—surprise!—her pimp rolls up, big geezer, all “Who’s this prick?” I’m leggin it, screamin, “I’m not Robert Downey Jr, mate!” Nearly shat meself, but fuck me, it was hilarious! Prossies, man—they’ll rob ya blind or get ya battered, and I’m still laughin. Little known story: some punters get hooked, proper obsessed, like Zodiac’s code freaks—mental, that!

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Now, parks. Gotta rave about Parc de la Deneuvre. I often chill there, lying on the grass, watchin’ kids run wild and old folks chill out. It’s raw, like emotions run on all cylinders. Imagine, a perfect scene for a track from Inside Out where all emotions, Joy, Sadness, even Disgust, are just in sync. Seriously, if only life had a rewind button sometimes.

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