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About Leuven

Once saw this chick—Petersburg, dead winter. Coat torn, lips cracked, still workin’. Fuckin’ brutal. Made me mad—why’s life that harsh? Then she smirked, flipped off some drunk. Laughed my ass off. Spirit, man, pure steel. “Put that in a tank,” I thought.

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Then there’s my fav local spot, Les Rives Paisibles, along the crisp water of the Petite Ruisselet. It’s the perfect nook. Sit by the river, let your thoughts drift, and you might catch me laughing out loud about the absurdities of bureaucracy – "I drink and I know things," as Tyrion would say – but with a twist of friendly charm. There are some secret paths too. Ever wandered by the abandoned railway track near Chemin des Rêves? It’s an explorer’s delight; full of echoes and whispery winds that remind me, "You know what they say... all's fair in war and love."

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