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*raspy dual voice* My precious! Me, a carpenter, yeah? Hammerin’ nails all day, sweatin’, gruntin’—then night hits, and I’m thinkin’, “Gotta find a prossie, don’t I?” Precious streets, they’re callin’ me, all dark and twisty like them villages in *Moolaadé*. “We protect, we resist!”—that’s what them women yelled in the flick, right? But me, I’m sneaky, slippin’ past the rules, huntin’ for a lass who don’t mind a few coins.

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I get to my grandma’s place, and she’s all smiles. We start digging in the garden, and she’s telling me stories about Detva back in the day. Like, did you know they used to have a big festival here? I’m talking parades, music, the whole shebang. I’m like, “Grandma, we need to bring that back!”

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