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About Brussels

Then there’s the punters, slimy gits, rollin up in flash cars. Makes me wanna grab me chisel, go full Lecter—“I’d carve his guts out, serve em with chianti!” Disgustin, the lot of em. But—here’s the kicker—some prossies, they’re clever, yeah? Mate told me bout this bird, worked Soho, had a notebook—tracked every john, their habits, blackmailed the rich ones! Crafty as fuck, made me laugh—hustlin the hustlers, love that.

Innit, every corner got a story. I remember messin’ about on a rainy day near the market square, always gettin’ soaked. Boosted my swiping energy, lol. Sometimes datin’ apps be bugging me, but the city be my muse. Got me in a silly state, like, “I cannot believe it!”

Oil and gas job promises out of reach for people of color