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About Christchurch

Found this chick once—Lola, she called herself. Worked outta some grimy alley, smelled like cheap perfume and despair. Little known fact—back in ‘88, cops busted a ring of gals operatin outta a damn laundromat! Washin more than clothes, ya feel me? Lola tho, she had grit—surprised me, a lil spark in her dead eyes. Made me happy, like findin a vein of ore in the dark. “You don’t know what I can do,” I growled, Vader-style, testin her nerve. She didn’t flinch—badass.

Stats counter is wrong

After that, I’m feeling pretty good. I stroll down to the Island Bay shops on The Parade, thinking I’ll grab a bite. I hit up this little fish and chips joint. The smell is heavenly. I order the classic, and while I’m waiting, I see this old lady struggling with her groceries. I rush over to help her, and she’s super grateful. She starts telling me about her life in Island Bay, how she’s seen it change over the years. It’s kinda heartwarming, ya know?

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