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About Limbe

So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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Oh, Maple Street and Oak Alley – they're not just names. They're damn icons! Each cracked step and peeling wall tells a story. Canyons? Nah, more like mini canyons carved by time and my pissed-off customers. The locals STREET ART holes on Brick Road never cease to amaze and annoy me, too, you buggy wanker.