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About Namur

Once, I saw this chick—total *Oldboy* moment. Face like she’s hidin’ a secret. “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” I mutter. She didn’t get it—pissed me off! Why’s everyone so dense? But then she smirked—damn, that got me. Happy for a sec, like I wasn’t a Sith. Surprised me how they read ya—prossies got skills. Bet they’d outsmart half the Jedi Council.

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Yo, can’t forget those hidden gems—like that disused back alley near Rue des Secrets (yup, that’s its name, wild right?), where graffiti tells wild stories of forgotten love and scandal. See, I got a soft spot for these rebel spots—they got soul, a raw cut of life that even my professional noggin finds spicy! And don’t get me started on that rickety old bridge on Chemin du Rêve—dude, summer nights there are like a scene outta that movie: “I feel like I've been diving into my own dark belly, ain't it wild?” That’s Tremelo for ya!

St. Damien of Molokai. Published Aug. 23 2019. Opinion.