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About Ghent

Sometimes I wonder—why her? Why this life? Gets me moody, ya know? Then I think, fuck it, she’s free. Freer than suits in offices. “Alien, you’re my fuckin alien!” I tell her, dramatic as hell. She winks, says, “Cash up front.” Fair, cold, brilliant. I’m happy—found my muse, Clarice… she’s real. Smells like danger, tastes like chaos. Spring Breakers in flesh, baby.

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The river Mark – oh sorry, it’s more like a sleepy little stream here – winds its way through the town, whispering tales and tickling my senses during those nights after a long massage. It’s all so surreal sometimes. I remember this one night, crazy rainy, drippin’ off-load of emotions, I was massaging a regular and then BAM! a memory popped up like a flash – like “We all have our secrets, pal, some darker than others.” Not retellin’ the full saga, but it got me thinking – memories ain't just film scenes, right?

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