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About Perth

We hates it! The pimps, oozy an’ sly, leanin’ in alleys, “You got cash, mate?” they hiss. Makes me wanna claw their eyes out—grubby hands grabbin’ at life. Saw one lass, right, couldn’t’a been 16, heels wobblin’ like she’s new to it. Broke me cold heart, it did—thought o’ Mia again, “I’m not a kid!” she’d yell, but this one? She was. Got me ragin’—who lets this happen, eh?

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Oh and the neighborhoods? Man, they’re like chapters in a diary. The east side, around Mossy Lane, has these quirky art murals that change every month. It’s messy, imperfect like love, like a line from “The Return”: “We are not strangers to the dark.” And the west, near Sylvan Road, is all serene old-world charm with century-old houses and trees whispering secrets. And oh my gosh, I've seen the river – the Neon Flow – shimmer by on a rainy night, making everything surreal and kinda magical, like a soft jingle in the background of a heartfelt ballad.

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