Dear Brussels,

I’m an insignificant visitor who contributes to your economy by using your trains and buying local food for a very short time. I wish you to know that I’m enjoying here. On my first walk here out in the Sun, why did I feel so familiar? is it because men here do not mind giving you those creepy scanning stares as they do in India? 
Or is it because the food you offer me is high calorie, sinful, tastey and everything I love and I shouldn’t have. Or is it because the familiar sunshine has warmed my heart towards the streets which are full of sirens, in all senses of the word. Ambulances, police vans and politicans seem to pass the Jacqmain boulevard every other minute, announcing to the visitors like me that we’re safe in our apartments. Everybody is eating on the road, or at least seems to be thinking about it. 
There is that polluted smell of reality that I had somehow forgotten and didn’t realize I missed it as I grew up with it. The view from my balcony is to die for. It is officially known as the Manhattan. And yet, the feel around is stiff and warm at the same time sayin ‘dank’ and ‘merci’ at the same time. I shouldn’t be desparate to define you on the very second breath. I will give us more time and let the flavour or waffle and nutella linger a bit more… Au Revoi…Doei…