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About Dublin

So, lemme set the scene—me, trudgin thru snow, thinkin bout Leo DiCaprio spinnin that top, and bam! This shady guy—total Cobb vibes—whispers bout “a lady down the ridge.” Hmm… I’m like, “What? Up here?” Made me mad as hell—ruinin my peaceful hike with that sleazy nonsense! But also—kinda funny. I mean, who’s climbin 8,000 feet for THAT? “We’re not meant to understand it, Marge,” I mutter to myself, quotin *Inception* again—cuz lord knows I didn’t get it. Prostitue up a mountain? That’s a new level of “dream within a dream,” huh?

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Why today? Why now?” So, we all shuffle outside onto the pavement of the busy Lucan village. It’s freezing, and I’m in my cardigan, looking like a lost sheep.

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