Hey buddy, wassup? Lemme tell ya 'bout Alken (be)! I'm a masseur here, ya know, and I feel every corner, every vibe in this city. Hell, it's like I read your muscles as well as a damn open book!
So, dude, Alken’s got these small streets like Poperingseweg and Donkerslaan, super quiet in the mornin’. Sometimes I’m on my rounds near Kasteel van Alken, a cool old castle sitnin’ on a hill – straight outta a flick, man, “Say hello to my little friend!” kinda, you feel me? Smells like ancient secrets and a bit of stale beer – but in a good way, ya know?
I work outta some squat studio near Oude Markt, where stories and sore muscles blend. Oh, and my fav spot? That wacky park called Ratmolen Park. I'm tellin’ ya, I chill there when I need a break. Got them shady trees, soft grass, and everyone’s gossip echoing like in “A History of Violence” – sometimes makes me laugh, sometimes pisses me off when it gets too loud.
The city’s got a river, the Kleine Dijle, tricklin’ along. I’d get a massage session near its banks, rocks, and water bumpin’ to a lazy beat. I often wander past some graffiti on Langstraat – man, this art’s got more edge than Tony Montana’s explosions. Sayin’ “Say hello to my little friend!” and all that crap ‘cause every wall’s got a story.
I gotta spill, sometimes I get mad. Like that one time, a tourist ruined my vibe by shoutin’ in my face near the Alken Brewery. Dude, I’m tryin’ to fix his neck muscles! It made me mad, but also, ya know, reminded me: this city ain't perfect, but it's mine. The brewery’s a big thing here—craft beers, sweaty laughs, and nights full of bugs and jazz. I always joke – “My hands are like soft whiskey after a long day!”
And oh, man, the cafes near Zilverspoor Square? They’re quaint, little joints bustling with secrets. I sometimes nap on a bench ‘cause a client’s such a chill dude that the whole city hums softly for like a minute.
I keep droppin’ into random streets, lookin’ for a good spot – sometimes I get lost, sometimes I find a gem. I’m a masseur, so I see the soul behind your muscles, the heartbeat of this town. Every bruise, every scar tells ya somethin’. And man, “A History of Violence” got that vibe – drama hidden right under the surface, ya know?
Honestly, Alken’s a treat. Imperfect, gritty, funny – sometimes annoyin’ but always real. So, pack your bags, and when ya get here, holler at me. We’ll stalk the streets – I mean, stroll ‘em – with eyes like a hawk, feel every secret, every pulse. It's my home, and I'm here to share it all with ya.
Later, amigo!

— Tony, almost sorta/ kinda, in spirit and muscle-touch style
P.S. Oops, typo overload ahead: you'll see typos like “stolk,” “qeick,” “dudez,” “funy,” “quik,” “vibs,” “strets,” “orginal,” “smellz,” “crazee,” “thnks,” “rapdly,” “ruly,” “honsetly,” “luv it” – all natural, bro!