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About Antwerp

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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There’s this quirky little neighborhood around the roundabout – folks call it “the circle,” or somethin’ like that – where everyone knows everyone. I’ve laughed so much here, sometimes even a ridiculously spontaneous inner monologue kicks in: "Life, it's just a series of moments, right?" And yeah, a few moments got me really wound up, ya know, stuff that’s hard to forget, but it’s all part of the magic.

Controversies around the closing of the Jabbeke parking lot. Where should the drivers rest?