![]() She's busy serving her customers and I get why. A woman in her mid-fifties hurries over and gives me a quick smile. A concept that I thought had vanished together with teased hair and shirts tucked into jeans. He fires up and points to the woman in a dark corner of the Bar Dancing.īar Dancing. "The boss?" I ask, making my question as simple as possible. Pour me a Jupiler anytime after riding, but when smelling it this close up coming from someone's pores it's not that time. ![]() ![]() I bend over and ask him a second time, this time cupping his ear with my hand. "Tell me again?" he yells, which I actually only understand from his gestures. It's just that the answer seems to linger somewhere in the back of his brain, but isn't able to find its way out.
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