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About Liege

So, this chick—or dude, who knows?—sells love for bread, right? Swinging ’60s vibe, free love, but with a tab—shagadelic twist! Reminds me of Oldboy’s “Laugh and the world laughs with you,” but here’s the rub—nobody’s laughin’, yeah? They’re hidin’ tears, masks on, groovin’ solo. Gets me gutted, mate! Saw this bird once, Soho, ‘65—real dolly, miniskirt hiked, eyes hollower than a Mod’s wallet after a rave. Asked her story—bloke ditched her, kid starvin’, she’s whorin’ to eat. Bloody hell, made me wanna punch the git who bolted!

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I’m a family psychologist, right? And lemme say, sometimes I see more than meets the eye. People here have stories, scars, triumphs. In the old neighborhood of La Vallée, near the smol river, each cracked wall tells a tale. I’ve sat outside in Parc des Miracles – yeah, I know, sounds cheesy, but it’s zen and a good spot to watch kids play, families bond. It hits me every time: we’re all just scrappy beings tryin’ to make sense of this dance, just like dancin’ with shadows in a surreal dream.

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