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About Utrecht

Still, I’m pissed—why’s it gotta be so sneaky? Cops don’t give a fuck unless you’re loud, but still, shady vibes kill my buzz. Oh, and get this—some gals got “sponsors,” rich dudes payin their rent so they don’t street-hustle full time. Wild, right? I’m like, “Fuck that, I’m a one-night boss!” Movie pops in my head again—“Every season has its end.” Damn straight, Natasha’s my spring, summer, whatever—I’m livin it! Respect my authoritah, world—I’m the man tonight!

Clair-obscur

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After a bit of tinkering, we get it going. I’m finally blasting away, and it feels good. The grit flying everywhere, the sound of the machine—it’s like music to my ears. But then, outta nowhere, I get a face full of sand. I’m talkin’ like I just walked into a sandstorm. I’m spitting out grit, and Jan’s laughing so hard he almost drops his gear. “Welcome to the club, man!” he yells. Yeah, thanks, Jan. Real supportive.

'All it takes is one tournament' – Moorman's tips for OSS success