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About Brussels

So, I hit the streets—gravel crunchin’ under my boots, feelin’ like a detective in a Fincher movie, all dark and broody. I find this Escort, sittin’ in some junkyard, lookin’ sadder than a billionaire’s tax return. Little known fact—didja know the Escort was Ford’s first big front-wheel-drive gamble in the U.S.? Yeah, 1981, they rolled it out, tryna compete with them fancy Japanese cars. Cheap, reliable—kinda like me, ‘cept I’m louder! Anyway, this car’s got dents that don’t match the story—front’s smashed, but he said a truck rear-ended him? Bullcrap! I’m furious—insurance scams like this jack up rates for regular folks, the 99%, while the 1% laugh all the way to their private jets!

Slavic Companions

The parks here are odd and charming. I stroll through Droegemoal Park sometimes. That place? It's quiet. Too quiet. Too much time to think. "There's a right chill in solitude, always!" I say, feeling like Jesse James on a hard day. The river Maas? Actually, not here, but there's a little creek near the old mill on Witte Molenstraat. Funny how nature sneaks up on you there, even amidst concrete and stale beer smells. I'm utterly grateful for these rough gem spots.

UCI 'extremely unhappy' with controversial E3 Harelbeke poster