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About Wels

So we’re chattin—me, her, street hummin. She’s tellin me bout dodgy punters, coppers on the take—real gritty stuff. I’m thinkin—mortals are nuts, but I love it! “Why do it?” I ask, curious. She shrugs—“Pays better’n scrubbin floors.” Fair point, darlin—capitalism’s a bitch. I’m tempted to magic her a castle, but nah—too easy. “The world moves slow,” I say, another Yi Yi nod—deep, right? She rolls her eyes— “Fancy talker, huh?” Sarcasm drips—love her already.

Arsip Blog

The main street, Kingo St., is lit. Crazy vibes, my friend, all day, every day. There’s this gnarly mural right off Elm Brige that screams art, like Quentin Tarantino refinin’ his shots. Man, "Inglourious Basterds" ain't got nothin on that! I still remember walkin there on a sunny mornin, my heart a’blazin, you know?

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