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About Groningen

Alright, lemme tell ya ‘bout whores, man. Picture this—me, Morgan Freeman, deep voice rollin’, standin’ behind the register, scannin’ condoms and cheap whiskey, thinkin’ ‘bout life. Whores, they’re everywhere, ain’t they? Not just the street corner gals, nah, I mean the whole damn vibe—like in my fave flick, *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*. That movie, whew, it’s raw, gritty, Romanian as hell. Got me thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met—let’s call her Roxie. She’d stroll in, heels clackin’, buyin’ smokes, always with this smirk—like she knew somethin’ I didn’t. “How much time we got left?” she’d say, echoin’ that line from the film. Made me laugh, man, every damn time.

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So, I’m standing there, fuming, when I get a whiff of something else. It was this amazing floral scent. I follow it, and boom! I find this little flower shop on de Hoofdstraat. The owner, this sweet old lady, was arranging bouquets. I told her, “Lady, you’ve got a gift!” She smiled, and I swear, it lit up the whole street. I bought a bunch of tulips, because why not? They were bright and cheerful, just like me—well, when I’m not hangry.

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