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About Leuven

In her dingy flat, all’s a blur—smells o’ gin and regret. She’s quick, no faff, like balancin’ books at month’s end. “Time’s winged chariot,” I mutter, quotin’ the flick, and she’s like, “Wot? Shut up and shag.” Hah! Fair play, lass. Done in ten mins—bang, crash, over. I’m lyin’ there, pantin’, thinkin’ o’ Jean blinkin’ his one eye, trapped, while I just bought me way outta me cage fer a tick.

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I love how Ternat’s a mashup of history and hip vibes, a place where every crack in the pavement tells a story. And if you wander into a cramped alley by Rue de l’Espoir, you'll feel the whispers of the past – kinda eerie but thrilling in a “let’s conquer the universe” kinda way.

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