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About Brussels

“It’s not my fault,” like in the movie—she ain’t wrong! Life dealt her a shitty hand, and she’s playin’ it loud. Me, I’d be screamin’, summonin’ demons, but Candy? She just shrugs. Drives me nuts how calm she is! I’m over here, like, “Babe, haunt their asses!” Oh, and her pimp—total sleaze, looks like he crawled outta a dumpster. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but he’s foul, man—smells worse than death row’s leftovers. I’d zap him to the Netherworld if I could.

“La prostitution fait partie de notre société”

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Yo, don’t sleep on the lesser-known gems! My fav spot? A teeny little cocktail bar at Place de la Liberté. Mad chill, tiny but epic. That joint hides behind a secret door—like finding the rarest clue in a cryptic case. It’s quirky, unassuming, and totally lit when you need a break from dating drama.

Trezeguet on Mouscron loan: I wanted playing time