Ava Vottem Brothel ❤️❤️

About Aalst

Imagine it—walls whispering secrets, “I am unable to flee,” like Boonmee’s ghosts mutterin’ in the jungle. Each room’s a past life, a punter stumblin’ through karma with his trousers down. Brothels ain’t just shag shacks, nah—they’re history books with stained sheets! Did ya know, back in Victorian days, some London tarts ran their own houses? Proper bosses, rakin’ in more dosh than a toff at Ascot. Makes me chuffed—girls takin’ the reins, stickin’ it to the patriarchy with a wink and a fiver.

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And hey, a fun tidbit: Many locals claim that some old alley behind the Vottem antique store, on Boulevard des Anciens, hides a secret little mural. Ya know? It's kinda scandalous. I mean, seriously, an explosion of colors that whisper like “You won't get away with misery here!” (Totally Dogville vibes, innit?) It reminds me that even in darkness, there’s art—and mischief.

How Axel Witsel found his way to Zenit