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About Brussels

Lemme tell ya, I saw this one time—probs in Bikini Bottom’s shady corners—whore was dealin’ with some crusty sailor. Guy was all, “Pay up!” and whore just smirked, flipped her hair, and strutted off! Like, “Revolution is my art!”—straight outta *Carlos*! I was shooketh—happy as a clam at high tide! She didn’t take no guff, and I’m here for it!

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When I'm not busy doin' my relaxation biz or trying to keep my zen, I hit up the little park near the Scheldt River (yep, the river actual goshdamn flows through town). Saved a load of stress there, just sittin' on some random bench. I once got mad (for real, I was red-eyed, man) because some local cats were making so much noise I nearly lost my chill—like, seriously, even nature has trolls here! And that park? It's got this wild blend of calm n' chaotic energy, sort of reminiscent of that eerie quiet in "The Return", where the silence shouts louder than words.

Ludo Coeck Stadion