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About Linkoping

“Lost in Translation” hits different here—Bob’s all, “The more you know who you are,” and I’m like, brothel’s a mirror, yo. You walk in, see yourself—lonely, horny, whatever. YOLO, tho—live it up! One time, I rolled thru this spot—neon lights flickerin’, girls laughin’, music bumpin’. Felt like a king, then sad as hell—vibes switch fast, fam! Prolly smelled like cheap perfume and regret, but I ain’t judgin’. “Isn’t it weird we’re here?” Charlotte vibes in my head—I’m like, yeah, it’s weird, but it’s real.

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As I sip my drink, I think about Bro(se). The streets, the people, the chaos. It’s my home, and I can’t imagine leavin’. I pull out my phone and text Lisa. “Let’s talk. I don’t want you to go.”

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