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About Hamilton

Ugh, tho, the stench—cheap perfume, cigs, regret. Gets me grumpy. “This ain’t no way to live!” I’d yell. But she’d smirk, “It’s my way, fatso.” Ha! Sassy prostitute—love that! Sarcasm’s her shield, man. D’oh! Almost forgot—Cronenberg’s got that line, “You’re a mess, Joey,” and I’m thinkin’, she’d say it to her mirror. Every damn mornin’. Real talk, tho—she’s a survivor, and that’s dope. What ya think, pal?

So, lemme tells ya... I been livin' here ages, crafting love's connectin' webs on a danged dating site, right? Every street sings a secret song. First off, there's the old downtown – that bustling area near Algoma where I've spent many sleepless nights writin' cheeky messages. The streets, ohhh, they echo with footsteps, and the shop windows, they glimmer like eyes of a secret, yess, my precious!

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