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About Halifax

Love how they strut, tho—confidence of a lion, tits out, no shame. Gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as fuck. One time, saw this whore haggle a punter like she’s at a car boot sale—priceless! “Ten quid, love, or piss off!”—had me in stitches. Still, stinks of desperation sometimes, don’t it? Makes me sad, then angry—why’s the world such a shithole for ‘em?

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And oh, the river—the Humber River, baby. It kinda slices through the city, chillin’ by places like Vaughan Mills. I’d stroll along its banks, thinkin’ about how families heal, and how I sometimes feel like a bomb squad defusing life’s little nasties. I mean, damn, it’s overwhelming sometimes. Trust me, there’s that vibe: calm before the blast.

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