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About Leuven

So, picture this—dark alley, stinks o’ piss. We hates it! This lass, she’s there, all tarted up. “What’s yer price, love?” I croaks. She eyes me like I’m a bleedin’ toad. Fair enough—I am! Made me mad, tho. Why’s she judgin’? I got coin, don’t I? Little fact—back in Victorian times, prossies had secret signals. Hand on hip meant “I’m game.” Hers was glued there, ha!

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Forgive me for being forward, but I'm Jennifer. I'm thriving in Meeuwen and find-a-prostitute is nifty! I want to hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

Amay’s got this old soul feel. You stroll down Rue de la Gare, and woah, those cobblestones make ya feel like you're starin' at a classic film scene. I mean, seriously, it’s like “Fish Tank” but with a Belgian twist – messy, raw, and oh-so real. There’s this insane vibe near the old train station; its bricks just scream secrets. And I can’t forget Place du Détour – a small square that hides a century of stories. Total hidden gem, right?

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