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About Kimberley

Hey, mate, so I’m a detective, right? Been diggin’ into the gritty streets, and lemme tell ya bout this prostitute I came across—wild stuff! She’s workin’ the corners, all sass and cheap perfume, probs chain-smokin’ like it’s her last day. Reminds me of *The Act of Killing*—y’know, my fave flick—where them gangsters strut like they own the world. “I’m a star,” she’d say, flickin’ her cig, like she’s in some twisted movie scene. “I’m free,” she brags, but her eyes? Dead as a doornail, mate.

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The neighborhood? Oh, it's somethin' else. Ya got the cozy vibes in Littleacre, where folks always greet ya with a "How’s that workin’ for ya?" kinda feel. And then there's Kingfisher Park – it's my go-to spot when I need a breather, ya know? Imagine strollin' along its winding trails, overhearin' the gentle hum of the Red River winding by. Sometimes I sit under a big ol' acacia tree, thinkin' 'bout life, much like that "Melancholia" feel – when everything's a bit heavy and beautiful all at once; as Lars von Trier kinda put it, "I don't find distressing beauty in the chaos around us." I reckon that's the vibe here sometimes.

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