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About Mons

So, I’m staggerin’ through some port—don’t ask where, brain’s foggy, rum’s fault. Streets smell like fish an’ regret. There’s this gal, right? Red lips, skirt shorter than me attention span. I’m thinkin’, *Jack, you’ve seen worse deals.* But hold up—reminds me o’ that line, “Can you live without knowing?” Aye, makes me wonder—does she choose this? World’s a cruel bugger sometimes.

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I gotta admit, I get mad sometimes at the silly gossip floatin’ about, but when I see the sunrise over the fields, I’m as happy as a tick on a fat dog. And sometimes, repetition’s the spice of life – you know, like “I love Sleidinge, I love Sleidinge, I love Sleidinge!” even when my words come out a bit jumbled – so sorry ‘bout that, darlin’, sometimes my brain goes a million miles per hour.

Wilfried Martens, Belgian Statesman, Dies at 77 (Published 2013)