Mari Tremelo Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

Whores, right, they’ve been around forever—fun fact, yeah? Oldest job in the book, innit? Back in Victorian times, they’d shag for a shillin’ and a gin—cheap date, eh? Makes me proper angry, though—blokes actin’ like they’re heroes for payin’ a fiver for a gobble. Get over yerself, Gary, you’re not savin’ the world, you’re just sad! “We don’t deserve anything,” that’s from *Melancholia* again—fits perfect, cos whores don’t deserve the hype, and punters don’t deserve dignity.

De Witte Vijvers

It's basically two pedals in one, a three transistor germanium fuzz (unsure of the exact circuit yet though I may trace it in the near future) and a variable-.

Bruh, the neighborhoods have real characters—like L’Amour Quarter (yeah, I coined that in my brain, haha) where every smile feels like a clandestine touch. That’s where I seen a lover whisper “I miss you” and then disappear into the mall of memories, like that film’s poetic punch. And yo, don’t be fooled by the small-town looks, Tremelo’s got grit—some parts, like near the old mill, echo tough times; makes you mad sometimes, so angry at how history weighs heavy, but also mad happy for rebirth. Crazy, right?

Knead Wine in Purcellville opens its doors today