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About Bekasi

Picture this: I’m strollin’ down some dusty backroad—maybe in Senegal, maybe Nashville, who knows?—lookin’ for a gal who’s sellin’ a little company. Ain’t no judgment here, honey, I’m just curious as a cat with a ball o’ yarn. First thing I notice? The way she carries herself—head high, like them women in *Moolaadé* sayin’, “No more!” She’s got that fire, y’know? Reminds me of Collé in the movie, shoutin’, “I won’t let it happen!”—only this gal’s fightin’ her own kinda battle, tradin’ love for a buck. Makes me tear up a bit, thinkin’ how life twists us all up funny.

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China's ambassador to Pakistan has gone on local television channels denying girls are trafficked to China and sold into prostitution. The issue.

So I’m just standing there, feeling all philosophical. Like, life’s short, man. Enjoy the little things. And then, I hear this music. It’s coming from a nearby café. I follow the sound, and it’s a live band! They’re playing some sweet tunes, and I can’t help but dance a little.

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