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Now, I reckon it’s tricky—findin someone who ain’t a cop or a scam. Happy little trees don’t grow in shady alleys, y’know? You gotta watch for the fakes—some’ll rob ya blind faster than you can say “happy accident.” Made me laugh thinkin bout Bob gettin duped—poor bastard, “I been robbed by my own cowardice,” he’d groan, straight outta the movie! Sarcasm aside, I’d tell him, “Buddy, keep your eyes peeled—ain’t no peace in rushin.”

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Grafton’s neighborhoods are like chapters; each telling its own small tale. Northside’s cozy cottages cuddle secrets; Westend buzzes with lively street markets and lowkey art displays. One day I overheard a mum sobbing softly in a café on King Street, and I nearly spilled my coffee. It was one of those tough, cathartic moments, man.

From cells to care: Grafton Gaol’s transformation begins