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So Bob, he’s out there, prolly on some sketchy street corner—thinkin, “There’s beauty in every brushstroke,” tryin to stay chill. Maybe he’s got a fave spot, some dive bar where the girls hang. Fun fact—prostitutes in old Westerns, they’d hide cash in their boots! Ain’t that wild? Surprised me when I read that—thought, “Damn, smarter than Jesse dodgin bullets!” Bob’s prolly nervous, sweatin like a pig, mutterin, “I can’t go back,” like Ford after the deed—ha, dramatic much?

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He took two soldiers as an escort and interpreter. Two Germans approached them; they were injured, one in the arm and the other in the groin. They said that a.

There's this old bridge, Pont de la Liberté, spanning a lazy river that winds by like a secret whispered among old stones. It’s rusty, kinda forgotten, yet every ripple of water speaks of history, of wars, of peace—like hints of that raw, uncut intensity in "Shame".

French town apologises for not flying Union Jack in its D-Day decorations as they insist they will be playing