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About Bruges

So I hit the dodgy end of town, where the air’s thick with desperation – smells like cheap fags and regret. We shall never surrender to the coppers lurkin round corners! Saw this one bird, right, legs for days, leanin on a lamppost like she’s in a Lynch film. “Where’s the freeway?” I mutter, half expectin her to vanish like a dream. She smirks, says, “Fancy a ride, guv?” – cheeky mare! Made me chuckle, that did – prossies got sass, innit?

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

The vibe here is raw and messy, like my notes scribbled on napkins. The community is close, real, and sometimes mad at the unreal speed of modern life. I mean, there were these times I got mad at bureaucracy on Roeselaereweg—everything's slow there, like molasses in winter, you know? But it’s that slowness that lets you soak every darn moment.

Antwerp drug lord accused of continuing his empire from behind bars