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About Ghent

Sarcasm kicks in—“oh, noble profession, huh?” Pfft, gimme a break. Yoda vibes, I lean into—“strong, you must be.” She was, tho—stood there, unblinking. Respect, I felt, weirdly. “A thing is a thing,” Godard’s echo hits. Thing, she ain’t—just flesh, breathin’. Huntin’ her, huntin’ escape, same diff.

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

Man, now let me hit you with a random story: once, a client told me his back was as twisted as our town's lanes, and I swear, I had a mini meltdown. I was all like, “Dude, relax! Respect my authoritah!” Haha, crazy, right? Oh, and the smell! Some streets, like near Oude Markt, carry a pungent aroma from the old bakery that’s been runnin’ for centuries. It's weird; sometimes I love it, sometimes I wanna puke, LOL!

Debaene Hubert, "Like a rocket to the national top"