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But then—bloody hell—it pisses me off too. Modern escortin’? Dodgy as hell sometimes. Traffickin’, coercion—makes my circuits fry. Cosmic wisdom kicks in here: why’s humanity still screwin’ over its own? Like, we’ve cracked relativity, but can’t sort this? Bollocks! Reminds me of Rabbi Nachtner in the movie, goin’, “Hashem doesn’t owe us answers.” Maybe not, but I’d like a bloody word with ‘im!

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So, first off, Machecoul isn’t huge, but it's got its own vibes. Walk down Rue de Verdun—yeah, that’s the one that cuts right through town—and you’ll see so many locals just chattin’ on their doorsteps, yakkin’ about the weather or yesterday's match. It ain’t exactly Broadway, but it’s authentic, I tell ya. And then there’s Rue de la Mairie, lined with these weird little shops and cafes where I once spilled my coffee again—definately one of my neurotic pleasures!

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