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About Haifa

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

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Anyway, I’m fumin’ but I gotta keep movin’. I stroll past the old market on Al-Jazira Street. The vibe there is always lit. Vendors shoutin’, people haggling, and the smell of spices hittin’ me like a brick. I love it! But then, I see this dude tryin’ to sell fake designer bags. Like, bro, that’s not even Gucci! It’s “Guccy” or somethin’. I couldn’t help but laugh.

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