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Then there’s the vibe, man. She’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall—like a vampire waitin’ for prey. Straight outta that movie, “I must be gone,” I mutter, half-jokin’. She didn’t get it—too young, prob’ly. Made me happy, tho—felt clever as hell. But the stench? Goddamn, that alley—rotten trash and broken dreams. Nearly puked, ruined the mood. Why’s it always gotta be so nasty? Angry rant in my head: *Clean your damn spot, lady!*

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

So, I hit the streets of Aguada, feeling all pumped. First stop? La Playa de Aguada. The sun was shining, waves crashing, and I was ready to soak it all in. But then, bam! I step on a jellyfish. Like, seriously? Who puts jellyfish on the beach? I was hopping around like a crazy person, yelling, “What the heck?!”

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