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About Pretoria

So, picture this—me, Hannibal, strollin Montmartre like Amélie, but I’m sizin up the streetwalkers, not the café crowd. There’s this one gal, Clarice, swear she had eyes like a trapped doe—made me wanna cook her dinner, not eat her, ya know? Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact, ancient Rome had “lupae,” she-wolves, howlin for coin in brothels. Wild, right? Gets me all tingly thinkin bout the history mixin with the filth. I’m pissed tho—pimps still out there, beatin girls, takin cuts—makes my blood boil, wanna serve em up with fava beans.

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Yo, buddy, lemme tell ya 'bout PRichmond (za) – it's wild, it's raw, it's got mad stories. Walk down Maple Street – yeah, that tree-lined road – and you'll bump into hidden gems like the old "Vibrant Vibes Café" (the coffee smells like memory and regret, much like Synecdoche, New York said, "I wonder if it's alone in its loneliness").

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