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About Charleroi

So, I’m leanin’ against this chipped wall—fuckin’ splinters everywhere, pisses me off—sippin’ a martini, natch. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sizin’ her up. Did ya know, back in the day, Rome’s hookers had their own guild? True story—called themselves “meretrices,” fancy as fuck. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how they’d strut past the Colosseum, dodgin’ drunk senators. History’s wild, innit?

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Then there’s the district of Vieux Maurage. Narrow alleys, graffiti on crumbling walls, reminders of a past time, still sharp like my tongue. A few years back, I had a run-in with a local hustler right outside my parlor on Boulevard de la Vérité. Not that it matters – that bastard tried to sell me some crummy lies. Just like Teddy in that Spielberg movie said, “I’m trying to become love.” What a pile of nonsense.

Insular volumetry in severe alcohol use disorder and Korsakoff's syndrome through an anatomical parcellation: Let us go back to basics - Billaux - 2023 - Addiction Biology