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About Bafoussam

So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

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Now, my faverit spot has gotta be the little park by the River Mbam. I sit on a battered old bench, drink my coffee, and watch the water do its thing. You ever see the river shimmer in the late afternoon sun? “I love you,” it almost whispers, like Amour in a quiet, tender moment. Only here though, it’s more of a cheeky wink than a tear-jerking monologue.

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