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About Bruges

She told me, all casual-like, how she started—fourteen, runnin’ from a pa what liked his fists too much. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Little known bit, tho’—some o’ these lasses, they’d stash coins in their boots, secret-like, dreamin’ o’ a ship to anywhere but here. Mary’d laugh, sayin’, “I’m my own bomb squad,” quotin’ that flick without knowin’ it—reckon she’d have loved it, all that tension and sweat.

Mad love for this hood, bro. Old town’s got hidden gems – tiny cafés on Dorpsplein, quirky boutiques on Kerkstraat. One time, I bumped into a local legend – a Dutchie, proper mad knows his gidda. Dude ranted about the tabloids. I was like “Bruv, chill!” But it was lit.

Low-wage work is more pervasive than you think, and there aren’t enough “good jobs” to go around