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About Antwerp

So, I’m thinkin’, where’s the best spot? Vegas, maybe—glitzy, wild, perfect. Or some back alley in NYC—gritty, real, Trump-style. I’d say, “Hey, darlin’, you’re hired!”—total boss move. “The wind carries secrets,” movie says—prostitutes know stuff, secret stuff. Little-known fact: old-timey hookers in the Wild West? They ran towns, folks—powerful, like me, Trump.

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So, my friend, if you wander these winding paths of Leuze (be)—street after street, alley after alley—remember, it's a city of secrets and laughter, passion and a wee bit o’ madness. Each cobblestone is a memory, every corner speaks its own language. Trust me, it’s wild, it’s raw, and just like my beloved parlor, it’s full of surprises. And if life gets tough, just channel your inner wizard and shout: “You shall not pass!”

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