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About Phoenix

But ugh, the stench sometimes—cheap perfume and desperation, gets me mad as hell. Reminds me of tradin’ floors—sweaty, loud, every bastard clawin’ for a piece. Still, I dig the chaos—whores got that raw energy, y’know? Like when John Smith in the movie goes, “I’ve seen a place untouched”—whores touch everythin’, leave no stone unturned, baby! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who gives a shit—I’m Gordon freakin’ Gekko, I see gold where you see dirt.

NO COOKIES FROM ME!

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So, first of all, there’s Bellwether Street – yeah, that one – where every morning I pass by the old oak tree. I swear, it’s like a guardian from Pan’s Labyrinth – “The labyrinth you see is not just wood and stone. It’s a mirror to your soul!” Yo, wild right? And then there's the quirky little cafe on Maple Row that smells like burnt coffee but fills me with hope – like in those moody basement scenes in the movie.

Nicholas Perry Obituary - FL