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Lemme tell ya, it’s a mess out there. Saw this gal once, heels clickin’ like gunshots, skirt shorter than a possum’s temper. Reminded me of Sara Goldfarb, chasin’ that high, y’know? “I’m gonna be on television!” she’d say—well, this gal’s dreamin’ of somethin’, but it ain’t a TV screen. Made me sad, y’all. Sad as a hound dog with no bone. But mad too—why’s the world gotta chew folks up like that?

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Man, the vibe is off the charts—so quirky and quaint. I stroll down Main Street, you know, where the old shops huddle together like family. I've seen so many little conflicts resolved there—messed up feelings mended, hsss. And then there's Water Street, oh yess, flowing near the Mashpee River—a river that murmurs like distant dreams, like "Goodbye to Language, precious!" I swear, when I pass by, my inner self shouts, “we do it, yes we does, precious!”

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