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About Amadora

So yeah, there she stands, in neon glow, a survivor, a rebel, a bloody enigma. Love her, hate her, can’t ignore her. Like nature herself—messy, raw, and takin’ no shit. “Truth is,” as Ennis’d say, “sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it.” Miss her spirit, I do, even if I don’t know her name. What a bird, what a life—untamed, unbowed, and fuckin’ unforgettable.

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After that, I head back to my workshop, feeling inspired. I start working on the violin, and it’s coming together beautifully. I’m in the zone, you know? But then, my neighbor, old Mr. Silva, barges in. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. “There’s a cat stuck in a tree!” he yells. I’m like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he’s persistent. So, I grab my ladder and we head out.

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