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Still, I rate it, the hustle. Takes guts, proper balls. “The past is a ghost,” like *Tabu* says, and escorts, they ain’t haunted - they move, they grind. Me fave bit? The secrecy, the thrill, like a film, yeah? You ever tried it, fam? Don’t lie! Ha, I’d be shite at it meself, too loud, innit. Oi, respect to ‘em, tho - escort life’s a mad ting, real as it gets. What you reckon?

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Now, don't even get me started on the river Semois-like trickle, weirdly twisty, runnin’ by Parc des Fous – a not-so-quiet park where kids and old ninnies alike laugh, cry, and let off steam. I once sat there for hours watchin’ life, thinkin’ “This is separation!” – like deciding which crap to leave behind.

In Belgium’s Borinage, where Van Gogh the pastor became a painter