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About Brest

But damn, it pisses me off—people judgin em like they’re trash. Like, dude, they’re survivin! Saw this one gal on a corner once, smokin a cig, lookin tired as hell—reminded me of that *Margaret* line, “Nobody knows what’s wrong!” She prolly don’t either, just rollin with it. I’m like, girl, you deserve a freakin medal, not dirty looks.

So, first off, ya got Street of Broken Dreams. Yeah, dude, that’s where I set up me low-key masseurin gig. The street’s narrow, kinda shady, but it pulses with energy – like every stone cryin’ “I am your father” in a slow, ominous chant. I feel that deep in my bones. The buzz? Totally insane sometimes, bro. lol