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I’m walkin’, right, thinkin’ bout Eilis sayin’, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll want to die,” and I’m like—damn, that’s me missin’ my old couch right now. But I’m pissed, too—why’s this gotta be so sketchy? Dudes lurkin’, tryna rip you off, actin’ all tough. Makes me wanna yell, “Chill, fam, I’m just tryna live!” Then—boom—there she is, sassy as hell, struttin’ like she owns the block. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that Brooklyn grit,” and I’m half smilin’, half shook. Numbers in my head screamin’—60% chance she’s cool, 40% I’m screwed.

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Man, PLimoux ain't just a dot on the map. It’s my playground, my battlefield, my haven. It makes me laugh, cry, and sometimes get hella frustrated. And heck, a few years ago, I got lost in its labyrinthine streets – my phone's battery died, and I had to ask a local. Hah, embarrassin', I nearly cried like in those slow-motion movie scenes.

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