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Then it hits me, that Boonmee vibe—“I see my past lives flicker.” Maybe these girls got stories, too, lives stacked like old film reels. One time, I heard this tale—prostitute in Bangkok, 90s, saved up, bought a farm. True story! Left the streets, grew rice, flipped the script. Made me smile, thinkin’ she outsmarted the hustle. But here? It’s gritty—neon lights, fake moans, guys too drunk to care. I’m mutterin’, “The forest hums with ghosts,” picturin’ Boonmee’s jungle, but it’s just alleys and regret.

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Then there's Riverside Park next to the old dam. I often walk there after a long day massagin' folks. Its river flows smooth, like a whisper sometimes, reallike, “It’s all a copy, just try to tread lightly.” Feels like a scene from “Certified Copy,” ya get what I mean?

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