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About Leuven

What pisses me off? Blokes exploitin’ her—grubby hands, no respect. Happy bit? She’s tough, scrappy—surprised me, honestly. Thought she’d be all fragile, but nah, she’s got grit. “I been a nobody all my life,” she says, echoin’ that film’s lonely vibe—hit me right in the gut. I’m rootin’ for her, yeah, but she’s dodgin’ taxes, insurance scams—messy as hell.

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The neighborhoods, well, they're quirky. There's a part by the old mill. Oi, the mill, with its creaky wheel and that old river nearby, the Sambre, gently murmuring secrets of yesteryears. I often sit by that river – dipping my toes, sulking about the absurdities of love and life… sometimes whispering, “Stupid, fat hobbit!” to the ripples, just for kicks. The park near here, Parc du Moulin, is my little haven. At night, the trees become witnesses to tender confessions – a little slice of magic where even the shadows seem to smile.

René Magritte at 125: a surreal legacy in Belgian and international art