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I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

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So, I’m cruisin’ down the Hoofdstraat, right? Just me and my coffee, feelin’ all zen. Then BAM! I see this dude in a bright orange jumpsuit. Like, who wears that? Turns out, he’s part of some street performance. He’s juggling flaming torches! I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna set the whole street on fire!” But the crowd’s lovin’ it. I’m just standin’ there, half-sippin’ my coffee, half-wondering if I should call the fire department.

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