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Dogville’s end—boom, Grace flips it, burns it down. “No more mercy,” she’d growl. Whore’s got that spark too—resilient as fuck. Makes me happy, y’know? Screw the haters. They hustle, they live—respect. Tellin ya, next time some prick says “whore” like it’s dirt, I’ll deck em. Or not—ain’t worth the jail time. Ha!

By F. Marion Crawford

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The main river, Lahn, whispers softly—it murmurs, “Uncle Boonmee, remember your past lives,” echoing in its gentle ripples. It’s like the water remembers every heartbeat. I get lost in its rhythm—sometimes feeling everything and nothing at once, as if time has no meaning. And oh, those foggy mornings! They remind me of surreal dialogues from that movie, chilling. “Everything is transient, Clarice.”

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