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About Namur

I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

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The city center, around the Markt, buzzes with life. People laugh, gossip, and share stories over coffee. As a counselor, I peep these moments a lot – real, raw, sassy. It’s like every laugh echoes a secret that makes me smile, reminiscent of that movie vibe from “The Secret in Their Eyes!” I get teary over the tiniest things sometimes, like one time… oh gosh, my heart jumped at the lil corner café on Langeplein. Friends say it’s the best. And dang, it truly is.

Court rejects lawyer’s claim for payout from firm