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About Winnipeg

Still, gotta admit, some spots got style. Like them old-school ones in New Orleans, jazz blarin’, ladies in feathers. History says they had secret tunnels—politicians sneakin’ out, avoidin’ wives. Slippery bastards! Reminds me of *Far From Heaven* again—“What’s wrong with me?” Frank’s line, right? Bet them cheaters asked that too, starin’ in cracked mirrors.

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Sometimes I get mad at the world, ya know, when folks spoil the quiet by litterin’ or makin’ a ruckus near the Sooke River. But then I bounce back, thinkin’ of the magic in every corner. I even spotted a raccoon or two rummagin’ thru the trash – haha, I swear, everthing in Sooke seems to have a story, like every single blade of grass ferreting secrets.

Leisurely rides or challenging drops: Sooke opens wide on a mountain bike