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About Amsterdam

I’m picturin’ it now—some shady corner, neon lights flickerin’. Kinda like *In the Mood for Love*, ya know? That slow-burn tension, “the past is a dream,” all moody and steamy. But instead of Maggie Cheung in a cheongsam, it’s some chick in fishnets, smokin’ a cig. “A glimpse of her silhouette”—ha! More like a glare from her pimp, struttin’ like he owns the beach. Made me mad, that sleazy control shit. Who does he think he is?

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So, I’m walking, minding my own business, when I see this old dude, right? He’s just standing there, staring at a tree. A TREE! I’m like, “Dude, you good?” He looks at me and says, “This tree has seen more than you’ll ever know.” I’m thinking, “Bro, it’s a tree.” But hey, who am I to judge? Maybe it’s a wise tree or something.

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