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About Brussels

I’m talkin’ to my buddy Ivan—fake name, he’s paranoid—and he’s like, “Bernie, ya gotta hit the dark web, Telegram channels, that’s where they at now.” I’m pissed, man! Why’s it gotta be so damn complicated? Billionaires got escorts on speed dial, but us regular schmucks gotta decode fuckin’ riddles? “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’m singin’ in my head, feelin’ like Llewyn, lost as shit. I dig the hustle though—makes me happy seein’ folks outsmart the system. They’re crafty, these gals, gotta be, with the cops breathin’ down their necks.

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Most of the red-light districts in Belgium consist of window prostitution, where prostitutes sit in a window with a curtained-off workspace behind.

I remember, man, one rainy day – i was runnin' code for a date website and caught a glimpse of nature through a misty window on Boulevard des Oubliés (yeah, i know, weird name, like our lost chances, right?). That scene, so gritty, reminded me of a line from Fish Tank: “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna succeed!” Even if it was negativ… perpetually raw, like life in a bunch of glitchy messages.

Europe’s social agenda: raising the game