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About Namur

Oh, and don’t sleep on the oils—lavender’s my jam, smells like sex and peace had a baby! I’m tellin’ ya, erotic-massage is unhinged, beautiful madness—like me watchin’ Harmony Korine’s fever dream, yellin’, “Spring break forever, bitches!” Try it, fam—get weird, get loose, thank me later! Peace!

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Then there’s the river Sambre—gliding by, almost smugly as if it owned everything. I sometimes lean on its banks, thinking, “Is this all a joke?” The water’s cold, and it whispers old secrets. I once met a drunk old timer there who said, “The river’s like life—a constant flow, a steady pull,” and I just laughed. Who’s got time for poetry when ya got a massage to fix?

The big China play that fueled luxury stocks is now fizzling out