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About Leuven

Gets me thinkin’—prostitutes in mountains? Rare as hen’s teeth. But there’s lore, yeah. Back in ‘89, heard this tale—some lass worked the Alps. Climbers called her “Snow Bunny.” Made a killin’—not like me, tho, heh. “I ate his liver with fava beans.” Nah, she just took their cash, quick romp in a tent. Smart gal, dodgin’ frostbite and fools.

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One time, I was walkin’ by the old Tongerlo Library on Boulevard des Espoirs (hope, y’all!) and bumped into an elderly lady readin’ poetry. I told her, “You internet my heart, darlin'!” And she just giggled like, "L'amour, c'est magique!" Reminded me of Amélie's whimsical lines, ya know? It’s like every corner here sings a little tune from that movie.

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