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So, check this—met this chick once, swear she was one. Downtown, 2 a.m., she’s smokin’ a cig, eyes tired but sharp. “You got a light?” she asks. I’m like, “Nah, just espresso.” She laughs—rough, real. Made me happy, dude, seein’ her spark. But then—whoa—pissed me off thinkin’ how folks judge her. Like, she’s less human? Bullshit. She’s out there survivin’, probly tougher than me frothin’ lattes.

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The streets? Ah, so many tales! Like near Heidbergstraße, right next to a tiny bakery where the smell of fresh bread lifts lost hearts. I remember one day, after a heavy session, I grabbed a bun and felt, "I'm alive, my precious!" All the stress just melted away. You ever feel that? Crazy, right?

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