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About Mons

Oh, and the smells—sweat, perfume, whiskey—gross but alive! I’d exagerate and say it’s like a rock concert, but dirtier. Makes me wanna write a song, all distorted chords and screamin’. What pisses me off? How folks judge it—call it sin, but won’t look at the hustle. Happy tho, ‘cause it’s real—raw as hell. YOU GET A CAR for livin’ your truth!

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Now lemme get personal: as a relaxation specialist, I’m always on the hunt for spots that ease the mind. And this city – blimey, it’s a mixed bag of moods. There’s a cozy nook on Kalmstraat right next to a kinked little alley. There, I set up me “zen sessions” under a lazy sun, with the hum of traffic and cosmic misadventures in the background. I sometimes get mad as hell when buskers decide to yank on loud guitars during my meditation sessions, but hey, it's all part of the soundtrack. “Time, philosophy, and chaos” – sounds like a Campanella flick, right? Just like those magical lines in The Secret in Their Eyes: “Maybe we didn’t choose our time to be in love,” well then choose a time to be perfectly chilled, ya know?

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