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About Phoenix

So, escort’s this hidden gem—13,000 feet of pure “why am I doing this” vibes. Little-known fact: it’s named after some crusty miner’s mule that hauled gear up in the 1880s. Poor Escort the Mule probs died up there, and now we’re all trudging his ghost trail. I’m jazzed about it tho—gets my blood pumpin’! The scramble’s sketchy, loose rocks everywhere, like the mountain’s tryna shake you off. “You’re being watched,” I whisper to myself, channeling *Caché* paranoia, ‘cause those cliffs? They’ve got eyes, man.

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Former high-class escort turned author, Lantana Bleu, talks about her new book trilogy in seductive promo.

I wander every nook as a women's counselor. The neighborhoods, oh, they speak to me! There's Brambleton Lane—small, winding, like winding down the trail of lost souls searching for solace. Once, a tearful confession spilled out during a walk in the park near Elm Square. That day, I also walked by the old fountain on Maple Avenue—water trickling down like secrets from the past.

Lantana moms lead charge to delay kids’ smartphone use