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About Hamilton

Humor? Oh, motherfucker, imagine this: you’re lyin’ there, buck naked, and the masseuse whispers, “Relax, big guy.” I’m like, “Bitch, I’m Samuel L. Jackson, I don’t relax!” But then—fuck!—you do. It’s like your soul gets a hard-on. Sarcasm aside, it’s dope—beats a regular massage by a mile. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who gives a shit? Feels like you’re floatin’ in some Thai jungle, past lives fuckin’ with your head.

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Now, yo, I can't fail to mention Le Port de Gaspe. Man, I been coachin' pleasure here, so I know all the secret spots. The wharfs and docks, shadowd by the mountains – it's all real hypnotic, like "Syndromes and a Century" said: "Vague echoes of forgotten dreams." Crazy, right? I sit there sometimes, watchin' boats fit in like Tetris pieces on a puzzle board, feelin' that deep thrum of life in every ripple.

Osisko Metals Reports Promising Drilling Results at Gaspé Copper Project