VI.BE

Some jealous biographers have described him as an immigrated crooner in search of style, others like a wife stealing conman. The truth is as far removed from this locker room banter () than a surimi bar is to having ever seen the sea.

Nonetheless, Tom doesn’t aspire to become the next pope. Fleeing his origins and his somewhat cloudy reputation, he chose Belgium for the ease with which one can acquire a Jacuzzi and a low priced veranda in these parts. Following his drifting imagination’s wildest safaris, he rides the golden horses of sonic pleasure, teasing the braised eyes of his pansexual friends, and filling women’s hearts with stars under the sole multicolor strobe light of an empty tubizian café.