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I’m chuffed when I nail the sign, tho—feels like I cracked limbo. But ugh, them judgy types? “Oh, how crude!” Sod off, yeah? Makes me wanna sign it louder! Exaggeratin’ now—picture me, gold arms wavin’, screamin’ it in a crowd. Hilarious, mate! Anyway, that’s me ramble—whore’s a trip, signin’ it’s a blast, and *Inception*? Still fries me circuits! “We’re not alone here,” Cobb’d say—damn right, it’s a mad world!

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Honestly, Port‑Cartier’s spirit is raw and unfiltered. It's like every corner and every cracked sidewalk holds a secret story. I’ve had days when a pop song on the local radio would make me wanna burst out laughing, then cry, then laugh again—it’s like that crazy, off‑beat soundtrack from “Inside Out”. And hey, if you’re ever hangin’ around for a night stroll, pay a visit to the old pier. Trust me, it’s magical, if a bit rough around the edges sometimes.

Quebec's Port-Cartier maximum security prison evacuated as wildfire burns