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About Ghent

I’m cruisin’, thinkin’, maybe I’ll stop. This one chick, red hair, smirks at me. Kinda hot, kinda sad—fuckin’ duality, man. “What’s your role tonight, doll?” I’m wonderin’. Reminds me of that scene, Oscar’s beggin’ on the bridge. She’s playin’ her part, I’m playin’ mine. Happy? Nah, but it’s a thrill, like scorin’ a deal. Exaggeratin’? Maybe—she ain’t no Carmela, but who is?

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Man, this city’s a trip. Picture this: crooked cobbled street called Rue des Murmures – seriously, every crack tells a story. Over there, near the old gas station – yeah, that one with the flickerin’ neon sign – cuisine of scents and stories mix in the air. Everybody lies, right? Just like in that flick "A.I. Artificial Intelligence" – life’s a mess of deceptions.

Greater self‐oriented and socially prescribed perfectionism in severe alcohol use disorder