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About Canberra

Alright, so here’s the deal—prostitute, man, what a gig! I’m sittin’ here, Tina Fey style, snarky as hell, thinkin’—prostitution’s like the OG freelance hustle. “I can see Russia from my house!”—and I betcha those Russian hookers got stories wilder than a moose on vodka. Srsly, tho, it’s a job that’s been around forever—oldest profession, right? Like, way before LinkedIn was pinging you with “business opportunities.” I’m imagining this chick, let’s call her Candy—cuz why not?—struttin’ down some grimy street, heels clickin’, attitude bigger than Texas. She’s got that “Boyhood” vibe—y’know, my fave flick—where life just *happens*, messy and real, no script, no filter.

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The heart of town beats on Lowes Street, where you can stumble on the tiny boutique cafes and quirky little bars down every other laneway. There's this hidden gem, a dodgy little bar on McDougall Street where the locals spill secrets over flat whites and laugh about the oddities of life. It kinda gives you a warm hug like nature itself, all "gentle, gentle, gentle."

Pigeons fall in fight of the birds