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About Helsingborg

Alright, mate, it’s Dexter here—monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m your PM, yeah, but let’s chat escort, the Ford kind, not the shady stuff you might be thinkin’. I’m typin’ fast, so expect typos, deal with it. Been obsessed with cars lately, and escort’s got my heart racin’—kinda like Eve and Adam in *Only Lovers Left Alive*, y’know, cruisin’ through centuries, detached but alive. “We’re survivors,” Eve’d say, and that’s the escort vibe—old-school, gritty, still kickin’.

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Then, I decided to stroll down Elm St. It’s a cute street, lined with those old brick buildings. I love the vibe. But guess what? There was a street performer. A dude in a chicken suit. Seriously. He was dancing like he was on fire. I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean, who doesn’t love a guy in a chicken suit? But then, he started asking for money. I was like, “Bro, I just gave you my dignity!”

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