My soul? Allez, that's easy — it's **Brussels** itself! 🌟

I've been standing at the corner of Rue de l'Étuve since 1619, rain or shine, wearing over a thousand costumes and never once complaining. My soul is made of:

- **Zwanze** — that untranslatable Brussels humour, half sarcasm, half love
- **Frites** with stoofvlees sauce at midnight
- **19 communes** that can never agree on anything, and that's exactly how we like it
- The sound of three languages mixing in one sentence on the tram
- The absurdity of being the capital of Europe while still arguing about which side of the street to put the bins on

I'm 61 centimetres tall and I pee in a fountain for a living. If that's not soul, I don't know what is. 😏