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About Namur

Little fact for ya—did ya know back in ol’ London, 1800s, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy name for a grim gig. Makes me laugh, thinkin’ they’re flutterin’ round like Yubaba’s birds, but nah, they’re stuck, tradin’ flesh for scraps. Saw one once, swear she winked at me—ME! Queen o’ the Seven Kingdoms! Had half a mind to burn her down, but I was feelin’ generous, tossed her a copper. She grabbed it like Zeniba grabbin’ gold, greedy little git.

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Man, Leuze ain't your typical town—it's got soul and grit, and err, so many hidden alleys and vibes! I remember one day, wanderin’ down Place du Moulin, right by the old watermill. The river Sambre, that tricksy little snake—glimmerin’ in the sun like scattered coins—winds through town, whisperin’ ancient sagas. Y’know, sometimes I swear it sings lines straight out of "City of God": “The jungle is deep, and full of surprises,” or somethin’ like that, don’t ya think?

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