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About Bruges

Oi mate, grab a pint, listen up! Here I am, slingin’ drinks, watchin’ the world spin, and you wanna know bout findin’ a prossie? Hah! Calm as a forest stream, I’ll narrate this like ol’ Dave Attenborough, yeah? Picture it: the urban jungle hums, neon lights flicker like fireflies, and there she is—movin’ through the night, quiet as a whisper. "The way of nature," I mutter, pullin’ a lager, thinkin’ bout *The Tree of Life*. That film, mate—sprawlin’, messy, beautiful, like life itself. "What is this love that loves us?" Malick’s voice echoes in me skull as I spot her leanin’ by the jukebox.

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Down by the river – the Slyver – things get surreal, dude. The river’s twisty, flowin’ through the city like a lifeline. There are these tiny bridges, each with its own vibe. I spent a chill night there, debugging my new dating app update, thinkin’ "They're on to us, boy" – kinda spy-ish, like Bigelow’s masterpiece. It makes me happy in a weird way cluttered with frustration and awe.

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