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So, you’re out there, lookin’. Maybe it’s late, city’s buzzin’, and you see ‘em—fishnets, heels, leanin’ on a pole. Reminds me of Marion in that movie, y’know? “I’m gonna be somebody!”—but it’s all grit, all desperation. You don’t just stroll up like, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Nah, there’s a code, a vibe. I read once—get this—back in the ‘90s, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em before Giuliani swept it clean. Little factoid for ya! Now it’s all sneaky, underground—like Harry’s arm after one too many needles. Gross, right? Made me gag thinkin’ about it.

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I’ve built a dating app here—yeah, it ain’t just swipes and matches. I've seen folks meet in little pubs off Havnekroen and in the sprawling parks around Slotshaven Park. That park, I tell you, is something else. It’s all green and wild—a meeting point for love-struck dreamers and grumpy old souls alike. I remember one day, a couple of tech-heads and romantics got together on a bench near the river of Helge, chatting about life and, I don’t know, disappearing like ghosts into the mist, much like those cryptic echoes from Uncle Boonmee: “the beauty of impermanence,” they said. It resonated, you know?

Leif Kristensen: An architect who did not tolerate compromise or mediocrity