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Quirk in my head? I’m picturin’ Eduardo Savarin—y’know, the *Social Network* nerd—stumblin’ into this scene, all sweaty, tryin’ to negotiate with a hooker like it’s a fuckin’ stock deal. “We’re valuing this at a billion dollars!”—nah, bitch, it’s $50 for 15 minutes, get real! Makes me laugh, that shit’s gold. Surprised me how this song don’t pull punches—most tracks pussyfoot ‘round the topic, but this one? Straight-up “I’m in, motherfucker, let’s roll!”

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Then I decided to check out the local art scene. There’s this gallery on Calle José de Diego that’s always buzzing. I walk in, and there’s this painting that just hits you, you know? It’s like the artist captured the essence of Dorado—the colors, the vibe, everything. I was feeling all artsy and deep, then I overheard some pretentious dude talking about “the existential crisis of modern art.” I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought they’d get stuck. Like, chill bro, it’s just paint on a canvas.

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