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About Phoenix

Lemme paint you a pic—imagine this chick I knew, let’s call her Jodie. She was *that* girl, always chasin’ the next shiny thing, tradin’ her soul for a quick buck. Made me so mad, y’all! I’d be like, “Jodie, why you whorin’ out your dreams for some loser’s dime?” She’d just laugh, flip her hair, and say she’s “livin’ her truth.” Girl, no! You’re livin’ a lie wrapped in cheap mascara! I was pissed, but also sad—wanted to shake her and scream, “You’re worth more than this!” Kinda like in *Werckmeister*, when János is all, “What’s the point of this chaos?”—I felt that, hardcore.

Hialeah Gardens Escort

The parks are dear to my chilly heart, yesss. I'd spill secrets on Westland Esperanza Park—lil green patch, but surprises everywhere. There’s also a nook by the little stream that runs wheee... err, near some old cul-de-sac on NW 89th Ave. I once sat there thinkin’ ‘bout life achin’ like rock and roll dreams, just like in that flick, Almost Famous, precious! "The best days are behind you?" Nah, here the best days are always ahead, man, always ahead!

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