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About New York City

Dude, so finding a prostitute? Wild, right? I’m Keanu, stoic brevity, “Whoa.” Like, you gotta be chill bout it. Reminds me of *Holy Motors*—that flick’s my jam. “I am alone, and they are everybody.” That’s the vibe, man, searchin the streets. You’re out there, dodgy alleys, neon buzzin. Kinda thrilling, kinda sketch. Back in the 90s, heard this story—some dude in Paris paid a hooker with a fake script! She took it, ran, he just laughed. True chaos, like Carax’s style.

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"Go, look over the land," he said, "especially Jericho." So they went and entered the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there. 2: The king of.

Now, let’s talk about the neighborhoods—there’s uptown, downtown, and all those crisscrossing bits in between. In the quaint old quarter, cobblestone paths are lined with faded murals and cheeky graffiti proclaiming "Adventure is out there!" How splendidly reminiscent of WALL-E’s rallying cry, eh?

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