Here goes a strange wheelbarrow, with a dog in front and a woman behind. The dog pulls, the woman pushes. Whatever one thinks of the proverbial cleanliness of Flanders, it's worth recalling this amusing observation by Victor Hugo: "The Lord of Canaples," he said, "who feared fleas so much for his dogs, would not have tied them to those carts." But these are well-dressed carts, where the brass of the milkmaids gleams; every morning, they crisscross the streets of Brussels. Along the way, the four-legged drivers try to rub each other's noses as a sign of friendship, but there is no time to lose. Butcher, baker, or milkman, all these daily suppliers must trot tirelessly and arrive on time; As soon as the rope is around one's neck, the struggle for life begins.