Maeve Marcinelle Whore ❤️

About Bruges

Lemme tell ya, one time I saw this whore downtown, heels high as my ego, struttin’ like she owned the block. She probly did! Had this wig, bright pink, screamin’ “Look at me, bitches!” Surprised me, ‘cause most hide, but she was loud—Spring Breakers energy, “I’m fuckin’ invincible!” Loved that shit, made me wanna yell, “You a goddess, girl!”

No Dogs, No Italians: remembering the Marcinelle Tragedy.

The personal destinies of several people, mostly Italian miners and their closed relatives and friends, struck directly or indirectly by the dreadful tragedy which occurred on August 8th .

Marcinelle ain't no paris; its streets got so much grit. Like, take Rue de l'Industrie – it buzzes with old energy, coal dust memories everywhere. Then there's Avenue de la République, all bright and modern, but with soul dug deep like a good massage session. I'm always ambling 'round these streets, thinkin' "What if this is a sign?" and stuff. Reminds me of that movie, A Serious Man – "everything is exactly as it should be", man!

How the Marcinelle mine tragedy shaped Italian migration to Belgium