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About Aalst

So, here’s the deal—ya wanna find one? Cities got red-light spots, always have. Back in ‘79, my cousin Earl—dumbass—got nabbed in Reno. Lookin’ for “company,” ended up broke, cryin’. Cops laughed, said, “Rookie mistake, kid.” Ya don’t just stroll up, yellin’ for tail. Nah, it’s hush-hush, coded bullshit. Look for the shady bars, dim lights. Girls linger, eyes sharp, smokin’ cheap cigs. Or—hell—online now, apps and crap. Ain’t my style, sounds like a scam. “The world is my hunting ground,” Carlos growled. Yeah, huntin’ trouble, more like.

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Ya gotta peep the local diners too—La Petite Étoile sits on Boulevard du Bonheur. Every night, it’s a carnival of neon lights, half-shop tunes, and intense debates about life and love. Sometimes I even hum, “I knew you were trouble,” when the neon flickers oddly. I swear these streets breathe you in, mess you up, and make you believe in epic destinies.

The E25 between Liège and Maastricht is the most dangerous motorway in Wallonia