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About Calgary

Alright, so here’s me, a tractor driver, chillin’ like Bob Ross, paintin’ happy little trees in my mind. I’m thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, ya know, just cruisin’ through life’s wild canvas. I love *Moulin Rouge!*—that flick’s got heart, man, all that “love is a many-splendored thing” vibez. Picture this: I’m rollin’ down some dusty road, tractor hummin’ like a sweet lil’ lullaby, and I’m dreamin’ up a gal like Satine, all sparkly and sassy.

Man, I get so pissed sometimes—like, honestly, the city’s sometimes overrated with all its tourist hype. People forget the hidden layers. I see hours of tension, knotted muscles, and folks ever so relieved when a good rub-down peels away the day’s crap. It's maddening but also heartwarming, ya know? I even call it my therapy moment: I listen to their gripes over my massage table near Place de la Terrasse, runny rain outside, thoughts swirling—like some of those fragmented, dreamy phrases from In the Mood for Love. “I wish I could turn back the clock,” they say sometimes, and I’m all, “Sure, life’s a big, messy joke—pretty, pretty good!”

Kramberger: Highway 20 bypass debate revisited in Vaudreuil-Dorion