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About Bruges

Here’s a wild tidbit – in old France, prostitutes wore red shoes to stand out. Red shoes! Like some twisted fairy tale. I’m picturin’ her now, rockin’ them heels, laughin’ at me starin’. I ask, “What’s the rate, hon?” She says, “50 bucks, no hagglin’.” I’m surprised – thought it’d be more! Guess I’m green as a gourd. “The devil has many faces,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout the movie again. She’s like, “What’s that, preacher?” I laugh, “Nothin’, just ramblin’.”

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Oh, and the local park, well, de Stadspark is a chill zone. Kids, oldies, couples. All laughing, all happy. Reminds me of a scene in Ida: "The world holds silent memories." Pretty epic lines, those. There’s this narrow canal called the Poperinge Run. It glimmers at dusk. I sorta get emotional when I pass it.

The superiority of Flemish fanciers, as recorded in 1951: how much has changed?