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About Newcastle

Clarice… a prostitute, huh? Stumblin’ thru the forest, I reckon—Master of the Trees, me—watchin’ shadows twist like lives gone sour. She’s out there, y’know, heels snappin’ twigs, sellin’ what’s left of her soul. Reminds me of *The Diving Bell and the Butterfly*—that flick I adore. “I’m a prisoner,” Bauby’d say, trapped in his skull, blinkin’ out stories. She’s trapped too, ain’t she? Body’s her cage, streets her sentence.

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Fancy an affordable and easy care 1 bedroom bach within m to the beach? This refurbished property offers simple living at it's finest with the sqm.

Right now, I'm scribbling notes by the river at Moonlight Walk. The river, a tiny one winding by the promenade, offers such an intimate feel. I always pretend it’s nature’s own therapy couch, you know? It's perfect for reflecting on the ebb and flow of erotic human connection.

Budget finds lost veterans