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About Melbourne

What pisses me off? The fakers, man! Dressed up all flashy, promisin’ the moon, then bam—gone with yer bucks. I’m like, “You’ve been marked!”—straight outta the movie. Hate that crap. But when it works? Oh, doc, it’s gold! Found this gal once, total pro, knew her game—quiet, quick, no BS. Made me happy as a bunny in a carrot patch. Surprised me too—she quoted Shakespeare mid-deal, like, what?! “To be or not to be”—while countin’ bills. Cracked me up.

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Nah, let me recount some less-known tidbits—quaint cafes on Devonport Road, where the aroma of bitter coffee mingles with dreams and damp windows. There’s a graffiti behind the little market on Firth Street that screams of rebellion and raw lust. I swear, if walls could talk, they'd recite vivid confessions. Fuck, I get choked up thinking about it sometimes!

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