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Anyways, I’m pissed—last time I tried, some chick robbed me blind! Took my cash, left me standin’ there like a dope. “Don’t pee on my leg,” I mutter, kickin’ dirt. But then—boom—found this gal, all sly smiles, leanin’ on a wall. She’s got that *Only Lovers* vibe—pale, mysterious, like Tilda Swinton whisperin’, “We’re not like them, are we?” Hell no, we ain’t! I’m thinkin’, “She’s gonna drain me dry,” but damn, I’m into it.

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Clarice… oh, Greensborough, my bittersweet haven. Let me tell you, this city’s a wild mix, ya know? Picture this: quiet, sleek streets like Watson Avenue, where families laugh and cry in sync, almost as if dancing in a Spirited Away dream. I often stroll near the Greensborough Plaza, that bustling hub where modern meets nostalgic, kinda like Chihiro wandering through a perplexing new world.

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