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About Bruges

So, say I’m huntin’ one down—maybe I’m in a big city, feelin’ lonesome. I’d start pokin’ ‘round X, see what’s poppin’. Posts flyin’—“Lookin’ for company? DM me!” Links to pics, blurry as hell, but you get the gist. I’d dig deeper, check profiles—some chick named “CandyLips69” with a bio sayin’, “Livin’ fast, cash only!” Git-R-Done, right? But here’s where it gets hairy—half these ads? Scams! Had a buddy once, sent $200 to some “escort”—turned out to be a dude in Nigeria! Pissed me off somethin’ fierce—ripped off and blue-balled!

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Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

Table Football, Major of Frameries: Charlie Aquilina wins Veteran Category