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About Phoenix

We swears! Surprised me once, this one bird—classy, y’know? High heels, talkin’ posh, not yer usual slag. “I’m alive,” she says, like she’s proud, echoin’ Polanski’s man. Got me thinkin’—they’re fighters, ain’t they? Dodgin’ pimps, punters, the law. Me head spins—why’s it gotta be so rough? Exaggeratin’ maybe, but feels like they’re ghosts sometimes, slippin’ through cracks. We swears! Funniest bit? Bloke I knew paid double for a cuddle—soft sod! “Help me,” he begs her, like Szpilman to his piano. Pathetic, hilarious—made me cackle!

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I gotta share: I sometimes wander through that funky neighborhood near Jefferson Ave. — it's kinda underrated, all twisty little alleys and hidden murals. Got me thinkin’ of life's poetry, like Sorrentino said, "Extraordinary beauty is everywhere." Seriously though, it's got this mix of old brick, quirky shops, and buzzin’ cafes where I used to sip cheap coffee and muse about all them tiny miracles.

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