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About Mons

Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

Red-light districts by city

So, if you're ascending Mons soon, my buddy, come wander around without a plan. Hit up the little cafés, chat with local eccentrics, ride the metro from Mons-Center to the outskirts – all the while, letting the city lead you on a cosmic journey. Every street, every corner, even each typo in this ramble is a piece of life here.

Fire at CometSambre plant in Mons is now under control