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Love how they glide, tho—silent, slick, like Robert Ford stalkin’ his shot. Surprised me once, seein’ this dude in a suit hop out an escort whip—thought he was some big-shot, turns out he’s just droppin’ off pizza! Ha! Mr. T laughed his ass off—pity the fool who don’t tip that guy! Escort’s got quirks, man—ain’t always glam, but it’s real. Sometimes they’re haulin’ celebs, sometimes it’s just Dave with a flat tire. “He’s a ragged fellow,” like the movie says—escort don’t care, it just rolls.

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Ahhhh, mate, Wielsbeke, oh boy, lemme tell ya—it’s a real gem, ya know? So, I'm a family psych here, right? I've seen all sorts of quirky human feels in this little slice of West Flanders. Uh, like, in Wielsbeke, every cobblestone on Langestraat (yeah, that one near the main square, so lively!) seems to whisper secrets of generations past. The streets—uh, all twisty and narrow—make it look like a maze of memories and emotions. Oi, I'm gettin' all mullified here, like in that movie "The New World"—"We are missing something extraordinary in the mundane." Man, that always hits home.

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