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So, I sidle up, all nervous-like—me, Dolly, nervous! Can ya believe it? I’m sweatin’ more’n a sinner in church, thinkin’, “What if she laughs at my rhinestone boots?” I ask her, “Sugar, how’d ya end up here?” She smirks, says somethin’ bout payin’ bills, dodgin’ creeps, and outsmartin’ the law. Did y’all know some gals back in the 1800s used to hide cash in their corsets? Little secret pockets—crafty as all get-out! She’s got that same grit, I reckon, only now it’s 2025 and she’s probly got Venmo hidin’ in her phone.

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I stroll near the pier at "Kustweg". The air smells salty, fresh, and wild. Dude, those sunsets? Like, they make you relive your lost past. Reminds me of Uncle Boonmee's vibes. It's mystical, cyclical, man! "Time ebbs over the plateaus." Yo, it hits, no joke.

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