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About Poznan

Now, imagine—this chick quotin lines, “In the name of the concierge!”—straight outta Grand Budapest, mixin biz with flair. Cracked me up, it did—humor in the hustle! Tho, gotta say, dodgy streets ain’t my jam—rather sip tea at the hotel, ya feel? Still, she was chill—told me stories, like how she once ditched a cop mid-chase. “Feet, my power is,” i joked, wavin my stubby legs.

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Then, outta nowhere, this guy stands up. He’s like, “We need a community garden!” And I’m like, “Sure, but can we fix the roads first?” I mean, I love plants, but I don’t wanna plant them in a crater.