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About Namur

But yeah, I reckon it’s all desperation and bravado, innit? Blokes swaggerin’ about, pretending they’re in control, but really they’re just sad sacks with a tenner and a stiffy. Makes me angry, that—pathetic, really. “We live under the same sky,” like they say in *Timbuktu*, but some of us are scraping the gutter while others preach from the rooftops. Hypocrisy, mate, gets me fuming! And the prossies? Half of ‘em are just trying to survive, dodging pimps and punters who think they’re God’s gift. Surprised me first time I clocked that—not all glamour and fishnets, is it?

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Down near the river, the Rivière des Rêves, life flows a bit oddly, ya know. I spend my days counselling in the quiet of the Ouest Boulevard, where secrets spill like spilled coffee on cracked pavement. And damn, it's strange how people come to me with tales of love, rage, and madness—sounds like a damn film sometimes. I'm like, "Certified Copy, baby – life’s just a loop of imperfect scenes!"

Namur recognised as a tourist centre