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About Charleroi

Favorite bit? The chase, the game. Like in Anatolia, where they’re lost, searchin’—I’m wanderin’ Moscow, half-cut, lookin’ for a spark. Sometimes ya find a gem—girl who chats, not just fucks. Rare, tho—most are cold as the steppe. Still, I’d say it’s worth it, mate. Beats crunchin’ premiums all day. So, whaddya reckon—fancy a pint and a prossie hunt? I know the spots!

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Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

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