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Now, my fave flick—“4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days”—that Romanian gut-punch from ’07, it’s dark, mate. Two gals, one preggo, tryin’ to dodge Commie laws for an abortion. No prostitutes there, but the vibe? Desperation. “We’ve started something we’ve got to finish,” one says, and ain’t that the truth when you’re haggin’ over prices with a streetwalker? Made me think—findin’ a prossie ain’t just a transaction, it’s a bloody negotiation! You’re dodgin’ guards, hopin’ she ain’t a trap set by Cersei to screw me over. That film’s tension? Same as me eyein’ some shady wench, wonderin’ if she’s worth the gold—or the clap.

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Oh, and the parks…oh, the parks! Why, just think of Grosse Park. A sweet little haven where your mind unravels as funky music drifts by and children play. Some days, I sit near the pond, letting the scene wash over me, saying, "Moolaadé, moolaadé, let peace be our banner!" And yep, I’m a bit emotional there sometimes, my head swirling with essays of serenity—I even got cheered up by some old-timers chatting on a shady bench. It's lovely and maddening all at once.

Lacrosse: Northwestern earns No. 3 seed in NCAA Tournament