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About Haifa

So I spot her—legs like a dream, eyes sharp as my scalpel. “Love’s a funny thing,” I mutter, quotin Haynes’ flick again—cuz it is, ain’t it? She’s playin her part, I’m playin mine. We haggle—20 mins, 50 bucks, no funny biz. She’s cool, chill, tells me she’s savin for a kid’s birthday. Damn, that hit me—soft spot, Clarice, don’t tell no one. I’m thinkin, this world’s a mess, but she’s got heart. “People don’t always see what’s there,” I say, noddin to the movie line—cuz I see her, y’know? Not just the gig.

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So, I hit the streets. First stop? The market on HaGalil St. It’s always packed with peeps. Fresh fruits, spices, and the smell of street food. I swear, if I could bottle that smell, I’d be rich. I grabbed a falafel wrap, and OMG, it was like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I was vibin’ hard, but then—BAM!—some dude bumped into me. Like, bro, watch where you’re goin’! I almost dropped my food. Rude!

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