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Alright, listen up, fam—deep breath now. Imagine me, Morgan Freeman, sittin’ here, voice smooth as velvet, talkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute. Yeah, you heard right. Picture this: dark streets hummin’, neon lights flickerin’ like some wild dream—kinda like *Holy Motors*, ya dig? That movie’s my jam, Leos Carax spinnin’ chaos into gold. “I’m alone… and yet I’m not,” that line hits hard when you’re cruisin’ for company, right?

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By now, I’m feeling a mix of emotions. Happy, annoyed, surprised—like a walking soap opera. I decide to head to the park, Parco della Rocca. It’s beautiful, man. Trees everywhere, and the view of the hills? Stunning. I plop down on a bench, trying to catch my breath. Just as I’m about to chill, a group of teenagers rolls up, blasting music. I’m thinking, “Great, my zen moment is ruined.” But then, they start dancing, and I can’t help but laugh. They’re having the time of their lives, and I’m just sitting there, old man style, judging them.

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