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About Kecskemet

I saunter over, cool as you like. “Evenin’, love,” I say, all charm. She sizes me up—prob’ly thinks I’m a cop or a creep. Fair enough. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, London prossies used coded handkerchiefs to signal clients? Wild, right? History’s full of these sneaky tricks—makes me grin. Anyway, she’s wary, but I ain’t here to judge. Just wanna chat, get the vibe.

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Finally, after some coaxin’ (and maybe a lil’ bribery with a carrot), she’s ready to roll. But then, I see my buddy, Zoltan, over by the stables. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. Turns out, he lost his wallet. I’m like, “Dude, how’d you lose a wallet? It’s not like it sprouted legs!” He’s freakin’ out, and I’m tryin’ to calm him down. But honestly, I’m just thinkin’ about the race.

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