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About New York City

So, there’s this lass, standin’ under a busted lamp—nature’s own spotlight. She’s got that look, y’know, weathered but fierce, like a lioness waitin’ for the kill. I’m chattin’ her up, casual-like, “How’s tricks, love?” She smirks—bloody hell, that confidence! Reminds me of that line, “I can’t remember to forget you.” She’s a puzzle, this one, and I’m hooked.