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So, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout *Caché*—that creepy Haneke flick I love. “Who’s watching us?” That line hits different when you’re butt-naked, some stranger’s hands kneadin’ your soul. Erotic-massage got that edge—mysterious, slow-burn tension. Like, is this legit or am I on a hidden camera? “The tape keeps running,” Haneke whispers in my brain. Spooky, sexy—love that combo.

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Man, the town center is a maze of character; tiny streets like Fore Street and Peverell Road twist and turn like the plot of "Caché," and I swear, every corner’s got a secret ass story. I walk past the old stone buildings near St. Austell Mere – yeah, that ancient, moss-covered monument – and I get chills, like “Motherf***er, history’s alive!” The vibe? It’s mysterious as hell, just like those flicker's phrases in the movie: "C'est incroyable..." damn near poetic.

St Austell named Best Brewing Pub