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About Phoenix

I got pissed, tho, last week—some chick tried scammin’ me! Said she’s “top tier,” wanted cash upfront, then poof—gone like WALL-E’s trash piles in the wind. Fuckin’ ghosted me! Had me yellin’, “In this world, a man’s gotta have balls!”—straight up Tony vibes, ya feel? But then, I found this one spot, lil’ hidden gem, down by the docks. Word is, there’s this gal, been workin’ it since the ‘90s, knows every trick—calls herself “Eve” like that sleek bot from the flick. Ain’t that a trip? Made me laugh, thinkin’ she’s out there savin’ my lonely ass like WALL-E tryna save Earth.

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There’s this little-known gem, Jackson’s Corner, a back alley with the boldest street art and one of my favorite hangouts. The art? Simply chef’s kiss! You'll see scribbles that tell stories of passion and despair. And yeah, sometimes I'll sit there, thinkin' “Quelque chose de caché... hidden, just like our secret desires.” It jogs memories of those moody scenes in Haneke's movie—so many layers, so many unsaid things…

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