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About Charleroi

So, I saw this escort gig once, real deal, downtown Springfield. Big black car, tinted windows, rollin’ slow like it owned the road. Made me mad, y’know? Like, who’s this jerk thinkin’ he’s better than me? Prolly some fat cat with cash to burn. But then - whoa! - doors pop open, and it’s just some nerdy guy, glasses fogged up, carryin’ a briefcase. Surprised me big time! Thought he’d be all slick, like “I’m not a cipher, I’m a killer!” Nope, just a dude.

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Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

Table Football, Major of Frameries: Charlie Aquilina wins Veteran Category