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About New York City

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

‘The Curse Of Oak Island’ The ‘Holy Grail’ Finally Discovered?

I remember strollin’ by the Crimson Bridge at night, all foggy and cryptic, like some trippy Jarmusch flick. It’s like, “Time and time again, man, this place speaks to the soul.” And yo, speaking of time, I’d always say, "I used to feel alive in every heartbeat, every midnight whisper" – yeah, straight outta that movie vibe, baby.

Oak Island Police: recruiting, retention a challenge