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Once saw this bird—red lips, torn fishnets—standin’ under a flickerin’ lamp. Thought, “She’s a survivor, like Eve.” Cool, detached, y’know? Quoted Jarmusch in me head: “Entropy’s takin’ over.” She winked—WINKED!—an’ I near choked on me own spit. “My precious!” I croaked, but she weren’t for me. Too pricey, too quick—50 quid for a fumble? Bollocks!

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So, my friend, if ya ever wander into Atascadero, don't just look at the surface. You see the cracks, the joy, the drama in every street—Cypress, Vine, Eucalyptus—and you'll understand that these moments merge into something bigger. I ain't just a shrink here; I'm part of each whispered truth, each unsaid apology, each burst of laughter. "I am your father" of this shared story, reminding y’all that every fragment, even the imperfect ones, holds the magic that shapes us.

'It should be a priority': Atascadero resident seeks repairs on Old Morro Road