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About Gold Coast

What suprised me? How some o’ ‘em got hearts o’ gold under the grit. One lass—swear it—told me ‘bout her kid she’s feedin’ back home. “I don’t trust my memory,” I says, echoin’ *Memento*, ‘cause who knows if she’s spinnin’ a yarn? Still, tugged me heartstrings, it did. Me quirks? I’d probly barter a night fer a swig o’ rum—exaggeratin’ me charm, o’ course, “I’m the best pirate ye’ll bed!” Ha! Sarcasm’s me blade—cuts through the bilge.

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I love takin' walks in the old parks, like Lakeside Park – though I swear, sometimes the wind gets mad at me! I get ticked off when the pigeons get too rowdy, but then laughter sneaks back in, ya know? And oh, the streets near the station, they got stories. I've seen folks whispering, scheming, and laughin’ as if life's a never-ending film set. Sometimes, I swear, it’s like I’m in one of those gritty scenes from that flick “The Lives of Others” – where every eye and smile hides a secret.

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