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About Ghent

Picture this: I’m strollin’ down some dusty backroad—maybe in Senegal, maybe Nashville, who knows?—lookin’ for a gal who’s sellin’ a little company. Ain’t no judgment here, honey, I’m just curious as a cat with a ball o’ yarn. First thing I notice? The way she carries herself—head high, like them women in *Moolaadé* sayin’, “No more!” She’s got that fire, y’know? Reminds me of Collé in the movie, shoutin’, “I won’t let it happen!”—only this gal’s fightin’ her own kinda battle, tradin’ love for a buck. Makes me tear up a bit, thinkin’ how life twists us all up funny.

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Man, there's this narrow street—Rue de la Station. It’s got cobblestones and a vibe that screams “history!” It twists and turns like a roller coaster, each corner whisperin' old secrets. One time, I was strollin' there, thinkin' about family dynamics (yeah, psychologists gotta think everywhere!) and BOOM—a kid’s laughter echoed off the walls. I swear, his joy was more contagious than any therapy session I'd ever led. "What’s your story?" I'd ask him. Like in that movie, "Stories We Tell"—our truths collide in unexpected ways.

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