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About Charleroi

“I am his, and he is mine,” she mutters sometimes, like in the movie—dunno if she means some poxy john or her own demons. Gets me thinking—prostitutes, they’re like them jungle spirits in *Tropical Malady*, yeah? Half-human, half-myth, slinking through life. Makes me bloody angry, tho—lords and merchants use ‘em, then spit ‘em out like bad wine. Hypocrites, all o’ ‘em! I’d shave their balls with a dull blade, given half a chance.

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Oh, and lemme tell ya: lesser-known tidbit – the dimly lit alley behind Veldstraat hides a tiny art gallery, off the beaten path. Not many know, but it’s a chill zone for creative minds. I often peepin’ there with my journal. LOL, my favorite!

$1-million crossclaim against firm heads to trial