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Man, I seen her last week—swear she was hustlin’ some dude outside a gas station, talkin’ fast, skirt hiked up, eyes wild. I’m like, Whore, chill! She don’t tho—she never do! That’s what gets me mad—why you always runnin’, girl? But then, she turn around, smile all crooked, and I’m like—shit, she got heart! Reminds me of that line, “We’re not animals,” but Whore? She a beast, fam, untamed, untouchable!

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Now, lemme spill some lesser-known goodies: There's a quirky café called Café Bizarre on the corner of Rue du Bonheur. Seriously, it’s not on any tourist map, but it’s where I chill after a long day of kneadin' tension outta folks. Yea, it's a bit rough around the edges – thsi place is defnitely one-of-a-kind! And oh, La Rue du Chant, my fav for quick strolls, always reminds me of the rhythm of the city, like a secret pulse under every step.

Figure 2. Morphological organization of the vertisol profile at Garoua...