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Personal quirk—I’d prolly overthink it, like, “What’s her story? She paintin her own canvas?” Exaggeratin for fun, maybe she’s a secret outlaw queen—runnin the show, “I’ll kill ya myself,” she’d whisper, all sultry-like. Hella intense! But real talk, it’s just business—supply, demand, happy little transactions. Still, somethin bout it feels raw, human—kinda beautiful, kinda sad, like Jesse’s last breath in that flick.

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Anyway, I get up, dust myself off, and keep walking. I pass by the old shipyard. Man, that place has seen better days. It’s like a ghost town, but in a cool way. I start thinking about all the ships that used to roll out of there. What a time that must’ve been! But then I remember the stories of the workers. Tough folks, you know? Makes me appreciate my cushy job.

Mykolaiv court returns soybean harvest to buyer despite payment fraud