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About Bruges

Smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Laughed my ass off — one guy braggin’ he’s a stud, looked like a soggy potato! Hate the pimps most — slimy bastards. Wish I could “copy” their asses to jail. Still, tractor life’s simpler — dirt don’t lie. Brothels? All lies, man, all lies.

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Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

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