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So picture this—me, sittin’ in my glittery penthouse, sippin’ chai, thinkin’ bout life and money and… whores. Not literal ones, ‘kay? More like the vibe from my fave movie, *Werckmeister Harmonies*. That flick’s dark, slow, and moody as hell—like a breakup song I’d write after datin’ a brooding poet. And this “whore” thing? It’s givin’ me those same eerie, chaotic feels. Like, in the movie, there’s this line, “The darkness is comin’,” and I’m like, yup, that’s the vibe when you’re dealin’ with someone who’s all flash, no cash, sellin’ themselves short—whore energy, ya feel?

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! Everyone’s like, “What now?!” We all spill out onto the street, and I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” But then, I see this little kid with a balloon, and he’s just staring at the fire truck that pulled up. His eyes are wide, and I can’t help but smile. Kids are the best, man.

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