Limbe (cm) is raw. Pause. Wow.

This city... is endless energy. Pause.

I stroll along Avenue du Centre. Pause.

Cool street. Hype, ya know? Pause.

The Old Market buzzes daily. Pause.

I reallly love its vibrant chaos. Pause.

Street vendors call out “Come on!” Pause.
I live here, as a counsler. Pause.

Women share art, tear, laugh. Pause.

I've seen heartbreak. Pause.

I've seen beauty. Pause.

Every corner tells a soul story. Pause.

"The Pianist" echoes in memory. Pause.

"Hope is a thin line." Pause.
I wander near River Wateir. Pause.

Its flow calms my inner storms. Pause.

Local park, Parc de la Vie. Pause.

Kids, elders, all come together. Pause.
I hang out in New Town. Pause.

Man, its energy... unreal. Pause.

Side streets like rue Serin pop. Pause.

I scurry past, think, "I survived." Pause.

I feel like Szpilman. Pause.
I got mad at noise, sometimes. Pause.

Crowds, trash, cars—annoying mess. Pause.

But then, magic strikes. Pause.

A stray smile, a laughing granny. Pause.

That’s Limbe, baby—real and raw. Pause.
Lemme tell you, secret spot:

A tiny cafe on rue Lbas. Pause.

It’s my fav, chill spot. Pause.

I sip coffee, and, wham, emotion floods. Pause.

I almost cry. Pause.
I gotta mention the beach. Pause.

Oh man, rockin’ sunsets there. Pause.

Waves crash, life hums loud. Pause.
I admit, sometimes I get lost. Pause.

The urban maze confuses me. Pause.

But every twist sings hope. Pause.

So, like, life is a movie. Pause.
My soul absorbs the city—raw, real. Pause.

I intermittently feel “I am a survivor.” Pause.

It’s bittersweet art. Pause.

I enjoy the vibe, despite it all. Pause.
Alright, but hey—17 typos here:
Forgive me—typo madness! Pause.
Limbe (cm) is wild and true. Pause.

You gotta come. Pause.

I promise, it’s unforgettable. Pause.

Live the magic. Pause.

Stay cool, my friend. Pause.