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About Logan City

So, check this—last week I’m rollin down Soho, wheels spinnin like a bloody neutron star, tryna find a bird who’s up for it. Streets smellin like piss an cheap perfume—lovely, innit? This one gal, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, skirt shorter than a quark’s lifespan. I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She squints at me chair—thinks I’m takin the piss. Mate, I was fumin! “Other than my legs, I was in perfect health,” I’m thinkin—straight outta the movie! Me brain’s sharper than a bleedin supernova, don’t judge me wheels!

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A pageant queen, a prostitute and a famed mountaineer lie among the dead at Old General Cemetery.

Then there's the shabby-chic district, curves in every corner. Believe me, mmm… sometimes I get mad ‘cause traffic’s hectic… but then, I laugh. Like, “The way the wind fools you, err… makes you smile” (ya get it, like in that movie). I even spotted a stray cat on Maple Ln, oh, bizarre, like a secret twist in Tropical Malady.

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