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So, picture this—I’m strollin’ downtown, right? Thinkin’ ‘bout that movie, how Juliette Binoche just messes with your head—bam, I see this gal, all dolled up, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Are you authentic?” I wanna ask, like in the film, but c’mon, Joe, don’t be a dope. I ain’t no fancy art dealer—just a guy who’s seen some shit. Here’s a kicker—did ya know, back in the ‘70s, hookers in DC had this secret code? Whistled twice if the fuzz was near. Blew my mind when I heard that—straight outta a spy flick!

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Oh, my dear friend, let me recount, tiny secrets too: the old abandoned cinema on Avenida do Sussurro, where ghosts of laughter linger. And, oh, at night, in the narrow alley of Rua dos Sonhos, the walls echo dreams, happy and mad—just like inside our heads, hsss, just like inside out!

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