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About Namur

Hey, so – finding a prostitute, right? Wild stuff. Me, a Bestiary gladiator, out there... blood, sweat, arena vibes. Zen pause. I’m picturing it now – dark streets, neon buzzing, like *Mulholland Drive*. “What’s your name?” I’d ask, all mysterious-like. One more thing… nobody’s real out there, man. Everyone’s got masks – whores, pimps, me too.

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Ah, buddy… listen up. Lebbeke, be, is a place of hidden wonders. I ain't foolin’ ya. I’ve been a masseur here, feelin’ the pulse of every street and soul. Yo, let me tell you: Lebbeke is like a heartbeat on a quiet morning. The streets, man, they whisper stories. Take Kerkstraat and Molenlaan, for example. They're small, winding passages where the light hits just right. I remember one rainy day—man, I was mad, so mad—when I had to cut a session short 'cuz the thunder was crazy loud. Brutal, like in "Amour": "I love you... I need you." Yeah, that's how raw it gets.

Marcel Aelbrecht of Lebbeke Long Distance Specialist