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About Leuven

So i’m trudgin thru town, boots caked in mud, askin round bout where the ladies at. Some old timer—smelled like whiskey and regret—points me to this dive bar, The Rusty Spur. “All that is human can sink…”—that’s the vibe there, straight outta the movie. Dark, smoky, eyes followin me like i’m prey. I spot her—red lipstick, skirt shorter than a miner’s fuse. She’s workin the room, all sly smiles and sharp glances. I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin—business or pleasure?” She laughs, says, “Both, if ya got coin.” Got me chucklin—girl’s got sass, i respect that.

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Oh, and about the little quirks: my shop is on a street that kinda smells of old leather and incense. I bet no tourist thinks twice there, but every whiff takes me back in time. I even got some graffiti on the wall - scribbled "Jesus saves, motherf***er!" by some lost poet.

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