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About Namur

So, I knew this chick, right, did escortin’ back in ’98 – true story, swear it. She’d meet these suits, all high-and-mighty, in some dingy hotel off the M25. One dude, fat as a hog, tipped her with a *gold chain* – not cash, a friggin’ chain! She was pissed, threw it at him, stormed out – hilarious, mate. Made me laugh ‘til I choked. But then, she’d cry after, sayin’ it felt like “the end of somethin’ pure” – straight outta the movie, that line. Got me thinkin’, escort’s a grind, not just a quick shag.

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There’s a bridge on the river, call it Pont de la Rêverie, where i once chatted with a stranger about how love is like debugging your life code – endless loops, my friend! And let me tell ya, some days, the city makes me mad, sometimes “I hates it, we hates it!” but then tomorrow, it surprises me with a little miracle, like a street artist on Place des Amours, splattering colors and stories everywhere.

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