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About Canberra

But here’s the real shit—sometimes it’s sketchy as hell. One time, this chick’s pimp rolls up, all “Who’s this clown?” I’m like, “I’m the one who gets shit done, pal!” Heart’s racin, but I’m cool—maniacle grin saves the day! Turns out, he’s just testin me—street cred, ya know? Exaggeratin? Maybe, but fuck it, felt like a movie!

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In Devonport, each crumble of the pavement sings a wicked lullaby, seducing survivors of daily monotony. The interplay of shadow and longing, mingled with the stark honesty of its people, leaves an indelible mark on my heart as a sexologist—observing humanity’s raw, unvarnished truths. Remember, Clarice… “I just feel elevated, Clarice.” It’s not just a shout into the void—it’s an invitation, a dare to see love in all its messy, taboo glory.

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