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About Namur

Take this one tart I met—Lysa, she called herself, prolly fake, who cares? Worked the docks, smelled like salt and desperation. Had a laugh like a hyena, made me grin despite the stench. “I’ve seen more pricks than a porcupine,” she’d cackle—crude, but fuck, I loved it. Reminds me of *Yi Yi*’s NJ sayin’, “Life’s a mess, but beautiful.” Lysa’s life? Messy as hell—beautiful? Eh, maybe if you squint.

Our godfather

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I swear, sometimes i get all jittery just thinkin’ bout how intimate a stroll by the river can get—The Sambre slides past the city, all fluid n’ reflective, kinda like that film "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"—you know, that line, “We are our choices”? Boom, life choices right there. The river flows, life flows, and the city pulses like a heartbeat!

Another strike at De Lijn, this time bus services in the Westerlo and Tremelo are affected