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Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re chattin’ ‘bout brothels, yeah? Dangerous gig, that—sex, cash, and shadows mixin’ like a martini. I’ve seen some wild joints, lemme tell ya. Like, imagine me strollin’ into one—dim lights, smoky air, girls givin’ me the eye. Reminds me of *Yi Yi*, y’know, my fave flick—Edward Yang’s masterpiece. That line, “Life is a mixture of sad and happy,” fits perfect here. Brothels got that vibe—half thrill, half tragedy.

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As I was biking, I hit a bump and almost lost my balance. I yelled, “Whoa!” and nearly dropped the plates. My heart raced. I was like, “Not today, gravity!” Finally, I made it to the restaurant, panting like I just ran a marathon. I handed over the plates, and the chef was all smiles. He loved them! That made me feel like a rockstar.

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