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About Aalst

I’m hagglin, she’s playin hardball—$200? $300? Greed is good, but I ain’t dumb. “What do I get?” I ask. She winks, “Whatever you can handle, slick.” Fuckin A, I’m in—exaggeratin a bit, maybe, but who cares? Felt like a king. Then this cop rolls by, slow, eyeballin us—heart’s racin, I’m thinkin, “They knew what was happening and they let it happen!” Straight outta *Spotlight*, man, system’s rotten.

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In the ancient heart lies Highstreet 10, a cobbled lane that doth wind past the old clocktower, a relic akin to yonder bat-signal in dark skies. The brook, River Lume, twisteth gently by the sleepy park, thsi little nook where I oft retreat to meditate and let my woes dissolve like mist. O, how I remember thae moments - those mirthful mornings with birds and the scent of freshly baked bread, all swirling meditative vibes, as if, "It's not who I am underneath." Seriously, so deep, man.

Lola Lonesky qualifies for American Eventing Championships