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About Brussels

So picture this: I’m haulin freight, Tokyo-style, neon lights flashin, and I’m thinkin—where’s the damn cargo? Delayed again! Makes me wanna scream, “I’m too old for this crap!” But then—bam—some shady dude at the dock whispers bout “extra services.” I’m like, what? Prostitutes? In *this* biz? Turns out, cargo hubs—total hotbeds for it. Who knew? Not me, I’m just tryna get crates from A to B without losin my marbles.

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Oh, and don’t miss the tiny stream, Ruisseau des Merveilles. It trickles by Rue de l’Espoir. Minor detail: it runs off a hill. Sometimes, the water makes the coolest sound ever during rains. I swear, it’s like nature’s whispers of secrets.