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Then I’m laughin’, cos—get this—there’s this story, right? Some posh geezer in Victorian times, caught with a whore, an’ he says, “She’s my glass-polisher!” Hah! Me, a glazier, polishin’ glass, an’ him polishin’—well, y’know! Nearly spat me tea out, swear down. “A memory is something you have,” says the movie, “not something you’ve lived.” Whore’s like that—stuck in time, twisted up.

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Now, enough of that sentimental drivel; let’s talk specifics. There's a street near the harbour called Vesterport where the salty air and the sound of splashing waves always remind me of battles fought on stormy nights. I mean, there’s a toughness to Hellebæk you can’t fake. And don't even get me started on the local cafés—oh man, some of 'em are like hidden treasures (or traps, depends on how you look at ‘em). One of my favs? Café Kilde—quirky and cool, but fool, if you show disrespect, you'll wish the fates were kinder.

The wandering architect: Utzon unlocked