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About Phoenix

Alright, mate, listen up—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” Me? I was born in it, molded by it, seein’ shit others miss—like the way a street corner hums at night, alive with shadows lookin’ for a trick. Findin’ a prostitute, yeah? Ain’t just a quick Google or a stroll downtown. Nah, it’s a dance, a messed-up waltz under neon lights, and I’m thinkin’ of *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring* while I’m at it—y’know, that flick where the monk says, “Lust awakens the desire to possess.” Damn right it does.

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Lemme share some secrets – I drink to forget, then linger at a quirky dive-bartopia on Birch St. It’s off the beaten path. The bartenders are quick with a joke, and the locals got stories that can launch ships. The vibe? “Perfection is an illusion,” as Margaret hinted, with every clink of a glass.

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