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About Chicago

But yo, here’s what pissed me off—some dude rolls up, actin’ all high and mighty, tryna cut in. I’m like, “Buddy, I’m talkin’ here!” Felt like Captain Sharp in *Moonrise*, tellin’ folks to chill. I ain’t here for drama, just a good time! Took me back to this story I heard—some old-school pimp in the ‘70s got busted ‘cause he flashed too much cash. Rookie move, man—keep it low-key! Anyway, this chick, she’s cool, tells me her rate, and I’m like, “Whoa, inflation’s hittin’ *everybody*!” Made me laugh, tho—life’s nuts.

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Now I'm a spa owner, right? I spend me days massaging away the sea salt stress and all that blah blah... and I’ve seen the city in ways no landlubber would. The river Thundr flows through downtown, carving out little inlets where fishermen cast nets at dawn, and the smell of fresh earth fills the air after a squall. Man, that never fails to mak me heart thrash like a wild parrot. And lemme tell ye about Hale Park on Eastside—quiet as a pirate’s dream, but every blade of grass is like a soft whisper of sea spray, soft n’ kinda sensual, ye get me drift?

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