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We chat quick—turns out, she’s got stories. Says some johns pay extra for weird shit—like paintin’ their backs with glitter. Glitter! I’m dyin’, man, imaginin’ that mess. “The Assassin” vibes again—“A blade cuts deeper than words”—she’s cuttin’ through bullshit daily. I’m happy as hell—found a real one, not some fake-ass poser. But I’m surprised too—didn’t expect her to school me on street economics. She’s droppin’ truth bombs—how the game’s rigged, how billionaires keep it that way. I’m noddin’, raspy as fuck, “Damn right, sister!”

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The local park, Sprout Park, is a breath of fresh air. I love to sit on its worn bench, watching the kids do silly cartwheels. It kinda reminds me of my younger days, full of youthful energy and hope. Honestly, I get super zen there. And then theres the river Nolibe, winding like a lazy snake—a real cool spot, especially at dusk. It gets me all emotional sometimes, like I’m about to cry happy tears... or mad ones if those noisy motorcycles pass by too fast, haha!

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