Nineteen-nineties New York was not just a city. It was a fever dream, a kaleidoscope of ambition, grit, and untamed energy. I arrived in Manhattan searching for something, a new beginning perhaps, or a place to disappear. I carried a secret, a weight I hoped the city could absorb. Then I met Habib. He did not just walk through the city. He owned it, moving with an unshakable confidence that bent the world to his will. He turned the ordinary electric, as if life was a performance and he was always center stage. Being near him was like stepping into a live wire, exhilarating and unpredictable. He had secrets of his own. Our story unfolded in the city's hidden corners, in underground clubs, smoke-filled rooms, and quiet spaces known only to those who knew where to look. It was intense, reckless, something neither of us could name but both understood. This is a story of love and exile, of the ghosts we carry and the cities that shape us. Some places change you. Some people define you. And some stories never truly end.
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