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About Bydgoszcz

Here’s the kicker: in Amsterdam once, I heard prossies got unions—fuckin’ unions! Fightin’ for rights like any worker. Blew my mind! Made me happy, tho—power to ‘em, ya know? Growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I’m thinkin’—they’re tougher than half the suits I’ve met. “Come what may,” she says, quotin’ my movie, winkin’—I’m sold, mate. Total respect.

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So, I roll into town, and the first thing I notice is the vibe. It’s chill but kinda quirky. I’m walking down ul. Główna, and there’s this old-school bakery. The smell hits me like a freight train. I’m like, “Dude, I need a pastry!” So I grab a pączek, and let me tell you, it was heavenly. I could’ve eaten a dozen. But I didn’t, because, ya know, moderation or whatever.