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About Liege

Whores, right? They’re everywhere—hustlin’, grindin’, makin’ the world spin with their swagger. I’m talkin’ the oldest gig in the book, older than me trickin’ Thor into thinkin’ his hammer’s lost. Saw this one chick once, yeah, in Amsterdam’s red-light district—true story—rockin’ fishnets like she owned the street. She did! Had this vibe, like, “I’m not here to please you, you’re here to pay me.” Respect. Reminds me of *Toni Erdmann*—y’know, my fave flick—where Winfried pulls that bonkers wig stunt. “Life’s just a big performance,” he’d say, and whores? They’re the damn directors.

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I gotta mention the park, ya know—the lil' gem near Boterhamstraat. It's a green nook where I do my zen stuff. Birds chirp, water drips from the old fountain, and my mind just drifts... drift away... and Guess what? I laughed so hard thinking of a scene from Certified Copy - the truth hidden in plain sight, like a secret giggle of fate. Oh, and the park’s name? They call it De Rustplek. Apt, huh?

Paris-Roubaix spectator who threw bottle at Mathieu van der Poel hands himself in to police