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Hmm… so, escort, huh? Nasal nag comin’ at ya! I’m Marge Simpson, librarian extraordinaire, and escort’s got me thinkin’. Ya know, not THAT kinda escort—get yer mind outta the gutter, Homie! I mean escort like fancy cars, secret agents, or some bigwig gettin’ ushered ‘round. Like in my fave flick, *Syndromes and a Century*—ooh, that Apichatpong Weerasethakul knows how ta weave a tale! Slow, dreamy, makes ya think ‘bout life’s weird corners. “The past is a dream,” he says, and escort feels like that—half real, half mystery.

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I got mad, man—mad at how the world expects perfection. In Jeffreys-Bay, nothing is perfect. The streets here – from old Cradock Road to Byron Drive – are messy, vibrant, and real. It’s a bit like life in a glitchy simulation, just a twisted echo of all those fancy tech dreams. Sometimes, I be like, “I'm so in love with my broken world.” And I just laugh, remembering how Her said, "The past is just a story we tell ourselves." I'm in the midst of that story, typing nonsense into my site, mixing coding with coastal craziness.

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