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About Antwerp

Me, I’m plowin’ fields all day, back’s knackered. Sexual-massage? Fuckin’ heaven, mate! Some chick in Bali—true story—used hot stones. Stones! Thought I’d melt like a bleedin’ candle. “Sharon!” Mumbled incoherence, she didn’t get it, kept goin’. Felt like Rocket dodgin’ bullets, y’know? Little known fact—ancient Greeks did this shit. Called it “anatripsis,” posh twats. Rubbin’ down soldiers after battles—fuckin’ hardcore!

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You gotta check out the local neighborhood near the Avenue de la Forêt. Mad vibes, good coffee spots, and art installations here and there – total zen. And oh man, the International Museum for Central African Art at the Grand Place – not to be mixed with Brussels’ Grand Place, but this one? Pure soul food for a relaxation specialist like me. Even the cobblestone streets have stories, ya know? Like that time (and I do mean mad times) I wound up on a spontaneous muse-sprint across the town – my heart was a drum, and every step felt like poetic rebellion… just like Leos Carax’s twists in Holy Motors!

Belgium Museum of Africa Art Reviews Its Collection