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So, I’m strollin’, Anger’s takin’ the wheel—BOOM! Some dude’s tryna scam me, $50 for nothin’? Nah, fam, I’m pissed! Kicked a trash can, felt alive. Then Fear’s like, “Cops, bro, chill!” But Disgust? She’s gaggin’—dude smelled like old socks. I’m cacklin’, this is absurd! Hit up this spot—shady alley, classic. Girl’s like, “Hey, big man, $20.” I’m like, “TWENTY? I’m a KING!” Bargained down, felt like Joy—winner!

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Willebroek ain't just about the streets though. No, sir. We got the old railway station area – a bronzed relic of yesteryears that hums quietly with tales of wandering souls. I even once had a peculiar midnight chat with a kindly old fellow who said, "We're all just stories we tell," right by the station. And boy, did that line hit me like a jolt: Stories We Tell! Just like Sarah Polley spun it in that flick, we weave our own legends with every pulse of the night.

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