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About East London

Hmm… so, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout prostitutes, right? Nasal nag comin’ at ya! Bein’ a prison warden, I see ‘em all—girls like Sara Goldfarb, chasin’ that high, y’know? “I’m gonna be on television!” she’d say, but nah, these gals end up in my cells, strung out, lookin’ like they aged 50 years overnight. Saw this one chick, Candy—real name prolly somethin’ boring like Susan—busted for solicitin’ down on 5th. Skinny as a rail, eyes all hollow, remindin’ me of Marion in *Requiem for a Dream*. “I’m somebody now, Harry!”—hah, yeah, somebody in handcuffs, sweetie!

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Hey, so lemme tell ya bout PLibode (za). It's a quirky, soulful city. Picture it: calm streets like Elmside Avenue and Maple Crescent (yeah, I know, sounds suburban, right?) but then—bam!—you got hidden corners that feel like a Wes Anderson set. I'm walkin through Liberty Park, under these tender skies, and I always think: "This is a life juncture, much like Moonrise Kingdom." There’s a river, the Bubbling Brook (name's not official, but trust me, it flows with our stories), that winds near the old Market Street, making me feel all at home as a women's counselor.

Six dead in head-on collision near Corhana