Jette, be. Cold. Calculated. Precise.

Streets buzz. Ixelles near, but here different.

Rue des Cités. Dark corners. Acrid smells.

I stroll near the Duden Park, you know?

Trees, laughter, weak sunsets.

Like Children of Men: "The system is failing."

Bruh, it's real here.

I work on dating apps. I track swipes.

People meet, sparks fly, then fizzle out.

I see streets like Rue de l'Abdication.

I see hidden gems too.

I sweat when I code.

Algorithms meet romance.

Jette too, has scars.

A small bridge near Leopold Park.

The river Senne hums low.

I walked by it. I got mad.

Too much irony here.

"Everything is falling apart."

I laughed. I raged.

Btw, my fave spot?

Café at Place Ma Campagne.

Not usual, but brilliant vibe.

I yapped with locals.

They rant about Brussels.

I drop 10 typos: so clu, wtf, sooo, lol, abot, nuff, reall, truely, gr8, spesh.

Yet, every alley whispers tales.

Yeah, like our fave movie vibe.

"They leave no trace."

I lean in, smirk.

Jette's raw, unexpected.

It's my lab, my home.

This city breathes stories.

My friend, don't miss it.

Cold. Calculated. In a rush.

Time never stops.

Under surface, LIFE still pulses.