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Dunno, mate, she’s a riddle. Part o’ me wants to buy her a drink, part wants to shake her— “What’s yer endgame, lass?” Life’s a coin toss fer her, heads or tails, and she’s still flippin’. “It ain’t about the money,” she’d prob’ly say, but it bloody is! Makes me wonder—could I do it? Nah, I’d rather swig ale and judge from afar. She’s a legend, tho—prossie with a heart o’ grit. What d’ya reckon?

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Oh, and the river! The Malá Taborka flows nearby. It's not huge, but damn, its burble calms my busy brain. Sometimes I lean by the banks and just let my thoughts scatter like pixels on a screen. That, my friend, is my therapy—the simple melody of water meets earth.

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