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About Ghent

So, picture this—met this bird once. Shady London alley, 3 a.m., smokin’ a fag. She’s all “ten quid, love, quick job.” Cheeky as hell! I’m like, “Mortal, you’re bold!” Made me laugh, her hustle. “I am burdened with glorious purpose”—to mess with norms, see? She didn’t give a toss bout society’s rules. Respect, kinda. Little known fact—back in Victorian times, prossies had secret codes. Whistlin’ tunes to signal coppers comin’. Clever bitches, eh?

Geschiedenis

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I’ve seen it all – joyous times when the town comes alive during festivals near the old mill, and those nasty, rainy days when you just wanna curl up in bed. One time, a client told me, “I survived the worst, like in The Pianist,” which hit me hard. It reminded me that every soul in this town has a story, a struggle, a victory – kinda makes my heart swell.