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Now, don’t get me wrong—place stinks sometimes. Sweat, cheap perfume, fuckin’ regret. Saw this fat bastard once, waddlin’ out, zippin’ his pants. Laughed my ass off—fuckin’ caricature, this guy! “Gabagool? Ova here!” I yell, just to mess with him. He’s red, like I caught him jerkin’ off. Hilarious.

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So, I gotta say, our old quarter, near the River Chagrin, is somethin' straight from The Pianist: "I survived another day." You feel like you did too. Kinda crazy, ain't it? There's this lil park, Jardin d’Esperance, oh lawdy – grassy, cool, and chill! Best spot to clear your mind. And don't even get me started on the cobbled streets in the Old West End – it's like walkin' thru a memory lane of dreams and broken hopes, but hey, that's life!

A Film Festival Founded in a War Zone, Still Going Strong