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About Gold Coast

Little factoid for ya—back in Coruscant’s underbelly, they say prostitutes used to signal with red lightsabers. True story, swear it. Adds that gritty edge, y’know? Anyway, this gal—shes smokin’, but sneaky. “There’s no trace of my money!” I hiss, checkin’ my pouch. She’s slicker than a Hutt’s slime trail. Surprised me, gotta admit—thought I’d sense the trick. Nope. Mulholland vibes again—“It’s all a tape recording,” playin’ me like a fool.

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Now, the streets – oh man, the streets. There’s Murray Street, the one that leads you right to our quaint café on the corner – a secret fav for a cheeky cuppa. Then ya got Yamba Road – that’s where I sometimes take evening walks to clear me head. Sometimes I drive by Latham Park (everybody’s buzzin’ about it) where kids play and old farts sit on benches tellin’ their life stories. It’s kinda gritty but real, yeah?

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