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About Jakarta

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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So, I’m wandering around, and I stumble upon this warung. The smell of nasi goreng hit me like a brick. I’m like, “Yesss, feed me!” I order a plate, and it’s like heaven on a plate. But then, the owner, this old dude, starts telling me his life story. I’m trying to eat, man! But he’s all, “Back in my day…” and I’m just nodding, pretending to care.

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