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Then there’s the vibe, man. She’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall—like a vampire waitin’ for prey. Straight outta that movie, “I must be gone,” I mutter, half-jokin’. She didn’t get it—too young, prob’ly. Made me happy, tho—felt clever as hell. But the stench? Goddamn, that alley—rotten trash and broken dreams. Nearly puked, ruined the mood. Why’s it always gotta be so nasty? Angry rant in my head: *Clean your damn spot, lady!*

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Anyway, as messy as it can be—like, oh man, my thoughts, err, jumble up sometimes—the city has this heart. Every twist and turn hides something wild, something that makes life, like, explode with flavor and messy joy.

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