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About East London

My precious! Brothel, eh? Raspy little voice screamin’ in me head—nasty, filthy places they is! Saw one once, down by the docks, all smoky an’ stinkin’ of cheap perfume. Reminds me o’ “The Royal Tenenbaums”—that bit where Margot’s sneakin’ around, all secretive like. “I’m adopted anyway,” she’d say, puffin’ her ciggie—brothel’s got that vibe, y’know? Sneaky, hidden, full o’ weirdos playin’ dress-up.

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Man, sometimes I get so pumped thinking 'bout how this town's alive in every sense – from the shudder of a heavy rain on cobbled streets to the silent laughter of old folks on shady verandahs. Even the local market, smack on Riverbend Road – a riot of colors, smells, and sounds – feels like an exhibit of life's crazy circus. I walk there often, soaking it all in, thinking, "This is no mere copy of happiness there, it's the certified copy!"

R30 due for makeover