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About Mandeville

So, I’m stumblin’—prolly high, who knows—down some grimy block. Neon signs screamin’ “Girls! Girls!” like a damn circus. I see this chick, right? Leaned up, smokin’, lookin’ like she owns the corner. I’m like, “Yo, you the queen of this chaos?” She laughs, all raspy—fuckin’ legend. Reminds me of *Moolaadé*, that line—“Purification is a lie!”—‘cept here it’s like, “Purity? What’s that, fam?” She’s hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ cops like it’s a game. Respect, yo.

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After that, I needed a drink. Hit up a bar on Rue des Vagues. Ordered a rum and coke. I deserved it, right? I sat there, soaking wet, laughing with the locals. They were telling stories about the craziest fish they’ve seen. One guy said he caught a fish that looked like a potato. I was like, “Dude, that’s just a rock!”

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