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About Leuven

But yo, it’s funny too—found this one spot, neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk, “Girls Girls Girls.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, right, more like ghosts.” Walked in, and this lady—prolly 40 but lookin’ 60—gives me the eye. “What you want, big man?” I’m laughin’ inside, ‘cause she’s playin’ me like I’m some rich bastard. Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“We’re not from here”—‘cause I felt outta place, man. Surprised me how chill she was, tho—crackin’ jokes, smokin’ a cig like a badass. Kinda made me happy, seein’ her own it.

La chasse royale

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Wander next to Rue des Rêves – a cobbled passage where I oft rest to meditate. Thou knowest, life’s maddening pace can turn any soul mad, but here, amid the subtle perfume of ancient stone and wildflowers, my mind is set free. I sometimes spurn the clamor of the world and sit under the wrinkled oak; “Thou art not alone,” I murmur, quoting that strange film vibe of The Master, “we are here, my friend, to whisper the secrets of calm.”

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