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About Yaounde

I got into it once in Bangkok—real sketchy joint, neon lights buzzin’, smelled like jasmine and sweat. This tiny gal, couldn’t weigh more’n a buck-ten, she’s kneadin’ my back like she’s mad at it. I’m like, “Yo, ease up, I ain’t a damn doughboy!” But then—bam—she flips the script, goes all sensual, and I’m thinkin’, “This is the treasure of the cave,” straight outta Boonmee’s weird-ass jungle. Made me happy as hell, tension gone, but pissed me off too—why ain’t this legal everywhere, huh? World’s too uptight, man.

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You know, sometimes I get mad at the traffic near Rue de la Concorde. Cars honking like they’re in a snarl of madness, and the locals just shruggin' it off, like, "eh, what’s new?" Sometimes I laugh at the absurdity, while my mind drifts "We’re all just gettin' by." And sometimes, just sometimes, I chuckle thinking, "You wake up, you live, you massage a bit, and you wonder if it's all connected – just like a buggy line of code in a Harvard dorm room."

Fatal Road Crash in Bonabéri: Truck-Taxi Collision Kills Five in Douala