“The E-17, it’s dark, Normal™ coffee and windshield wipers.
Parking in Antwerp.
Wet cobbles, friends, follow the yellow carpet to a monument in the center of the monument in the center of a zombie nation, free hats.
A brand new Starbucks. An empty gas station in Oudenaard. The Kwaremont.
Jupiler cans and mud, two guys and a woman all named George.
The first time nothing, a parade.
A fan in a flannel covered in horse art. Fields, ruts, horse shit, brightly colored trash, stomped and dirty.
The sun comes out, the women ride past, the second time, yeah, something.
A woman flirts, men piss, flags flutter in the wind.
The third and final lap, Niki looks back.”