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Oi, you donkey! I'm a stove-maker, yeah, but I’ve got bloody opinions! Prostitutes, right? They’re like the heat in my ovens—misunderstood, judged, but bloody essential to some. Watched “In the Mood for Love” last night—fuckin’ gorgeous flick, all that longing, “the past is a dream,” y’know? Reminds me of this prossie I met once, near Soho, London—called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ else. She was a proper looker, mate, but sad, like steam trapped in a shit pot. “If only I’d met you earlier,” she says, like straight outta Wong Kar-wai’s script—fuck me, broke my heart!

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Omg, I love the park at Het Zand! It’s the kinda spot where you can sit, breathe, and mend your heart a lil bit. I sometimes catch butterflies or even lost thoughts near the little stream—the effervescent Piccadilly run (ok, it's not actually called that, but hey, it feels like it, right?). Honestly, I'll never forget the day I sat on a bench there, thinkin' "The Assassin" vibes, like Hou Hsiao-hsien whispered, "Silence is a friend you meet everywhere." That really struck me.

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