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About Namur

Anyway, we’re vibin’, but I’m paranoid—cops? Pimps? Her damn boyfriend? “I’m not a thief,” she says, echoin’ that movie’s honor code. I believe her, sorta. She’s got this dignity, y’know, like she’s more than this gig. Makes me sad—angry too—world’s fucked up, pushin’ folks here. But I laugh, crack a joke, “Girl, you’re pricier than my Oscar!” She giggles—score one for Freeman charm.

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Hey pal, lemme tell ya 'bout Maasmechelen. I’ve been livin' here for years now, workin' on a d@ting app—yeah, that’s me, connectin' folks who wanna share a bit o’ love in a lovin' town. So, here’s the deal... Maasmechelen is a real mixed bag, ya know? It’s got these narrow streets like Keizerslaan, where old brick facades meet modern coffee shops; every nook o’ it tells a story, like that time I met a couple on a park bench outside Het Heilig Hart – man, that was somethin’ else.

Van der Poel dominates despite broken rib, while Van Aert's mistakes ruin final duel