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About Namur

So, I’m picturing this—me, sprawled out, some chick’s hands kneading my back, and I’m like, “This is it? This is the big thrill?” Reminds me of *Timbuktu*—you know, my fave flick. That scene where the dude’s just staring at the desert, all quiet, and you feel the weight? Erotic-massage can be that—slow, heavy, kinda deep if you let it. But most places? They rush it. No soul. Pisses me off. I want that “silence of the dunes” vibe, not some wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am rubdown.

Massagepraktijk Patricia Dhoore

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Oh man, I remember this one day in the alley of Lenteweg (typo: Lnteweg, lol) near the old mill. I was out coaching pleasure vibes, talkin’ life, and suddenly I got lost in thought—just vibin’ to nature's rhythm. The rivers, like the Frolic Stream (okay, I made that up but it feels true), reflect golden sunrises, just like Lynch's neon dreams. It’s surreal, bro... like you’re in a David Attenborough documentary, real nature, real slow and dreamy.

Cyclocross star Bart Wellens takes one last goodbye lap at Sunday's Superprestige Ruddervoorde