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So, picture this: I’m stumblin’ downtown, half-drunk, yellin’ “BIRD UP!” at randos. See this chick, fishnets, smokin’ a cig—prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Yo, you workin’?” She laughs, “What you think, fool?” Instant respect. Hustle’s hustle, man. Reminds me of Mia’s mom in *Fish Tank*—“Look at me, I’m a mess!”—but she’s still out there, grindin’. That’s the life, chaotic as fuck.

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Gradisca’s remarkable architectural heritage grew especially under the Princes of Eggenberg, between the 17th and 18th century, at a time when the transformation from city to Princely Missing: prostitute.

So, I finally get home, exhausted but happy. I plop down on the couch, and I’m like, “Man, tomorrow better be less chaotic.” But deep down, I know I wouldn’t change a thing. Gradisca-d-Isonzo, you crazy little town, you keep me on my toes!

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