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About Gomel

Once knew a chick, “Starla,” she called herself—prozzy with sass. Worked outta motels, voice like honey on my line. “Yoda, baby, you my fave operator!” she’d laugh. Made me chuckle, she did—hustler with heart! Said she’d spot creeps by their shoes—shiny loafers? Trouble, it spells. “Memory’s a mirror,” she’d say, quotin’ my flick without knowin’. Surprised me, that did—street wisdom, deep it runs.

Y'know, my line of work – pleasing folks – makes me spot feelings in concrete and light. Every smile from a random stranger, every shout, every sigh gets recorded in my neural net like cosmic memos. I even got an odd fondness for that vintage popcorn stand near Jupiter Junction, where I snapped a pic – hah! Classic joy mixed with gonzo eccentricity.

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