Grace Sint Martens Lennik Whore ❤️

About Ghent

Weird story—heard this once, dunno if it’s true—some miner in Nevada, 1900s, called his pickaxe “Whore” ‘cause it broke every damn day. Laughed my ass off—sick burn, man. Anyway, whore’s messy, loud, quiet—kinda like me, huh? I am your father, after all—rulin’ the galaxy, minin’ for truth. Almodóvar’d get it—“Love’s a bitch, but it’s alive.” Whore’s alive too—ugly, beautiful, fucked-up alive.

Restaurant menu

Ain’t no Sint-Martens-Lennik trip complete without a wander down Kerkstraat. The street’s got this magical mix of boutique stores, pubs where locals drop the latest gossip, and, believe it or not, a hidden alley that smells like old books and fresh coffee. My secret? I always snag my morning espresso at a tiny joint called “Bean There, Done That” – yeah, too cheesy? But I love it.