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About Ghent

Whore’s a word that’s messy, raw, real. Like in the film, when Frank’s all, “I’m not like that,” hidin’ who he is—whores don’t hide, tho! They’re out there, loud, proud, takin’ no crap. I dig that. Hmm… Maybe I’m jealous—me, stuck with laundry, them, livin’ free? Nah, I’d miss my Bart too much. Still, whore’s got stories—grubby, gritty, glorious ones. Makes me wanna watch “Far From Heaven” again, sobbin’ into my popcorn. Whaddya think, pal? Ain’t whores somethin’ else?

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I love hangin’ in the secret spot at the edge of the Forest of Murmurs—no one knows it well. I chill there, think ‘bout how families stick together. Sometimes, I even catch my breath, thinking “A Separation” again. It reminds me that even broken things can mend.