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About Bucharest

Biggest surprise? Some of ‘em are funny as hell—crackin’ jokes bout johns, callin’ ‘em “two-minute Picassos.” I’m dyin’, laughin’ my ass off, tractor shakin’ like it’s in on it. But real talk, it’s a grind—cops hasslin’, creeps lurkin’, and I’m thinkin’, “Paint a better world, Bob, happy little trees for all!” I’d tell her, “You’re a diamond, girl, shine on,” but I ain’t that smooth—probly just mumble somethin’ bout crops.

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Finally, I get my cup of joe, and it’s amazing. I mean, I’m not a coffee snob, but this stuff? Pure magic. I take a sip, and it’s like a hug in a mug. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m standing there, looking like a total mess, and I just laugh. Like, what else can you do?