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This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that fire, like Collé in the movie!” I roll up, all chill, like, “Hey, doll, you good?” She smirks, tosses her hair, says, “What’s it to ya, bunny?” I’m crackin’ up—bunny! Me! Bugs freakin’ Bunny! I’m like, “Eh, just checkin’, doc, don’t bite!”

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I often nudge a little secret: there's a tiny park called Jardin d’Espoir. It's vote what locals call a hidden gem. Just a scatter of trees and a rickety bench, but baby, it's magic. I've had some of my deepest conversations on massages there, with nature whispering in the background.

To replace Western food imports, Cameroon gives community lands to 'no-name' agro-industry