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About Linkoping

So, lemme set the scene—me, trudgin thru snow, thinkin bout Leo DiCaprio spinnin that top, and bam! This shady guy—total Cobb vibes—whispers bout “a lady down the ridge.” Hmm… I’m like, “What? Up here?” Made me mad as hell—ruinin my peaceful hike with that sleazy nonsense! But also—kinda funny. I mean, who’s climbin 8,000 feet for THAT? “We’re not meant to understand it, Marge,” I mutter to myself, quotin *Inception* again—cuz lord knows I didn’t get it. Prostitue up a mountain? That’s a new level of “dream within a dream,” huh?

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We start driving, and he’s all over the place. I mean, we’re swerving like we’re in a dance-off. I’m yellin’, “Stay in your lane!” He’s like, “What lane?” I’m about to lose it. But then, we hit the roundabout at Torggatan, and he nails it! I’m like, “Whoa, where’d that come from?”