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Here’s the kicker: heard from a snitch she once stabbed a john with a hairpin—straight outta the 1800s playbook! Didn’t kill him, just made him cry like a baby. Hilarious, right? “I’m the gangster,” she prolly thought, channin’ that *Act of Killing* vibe. Makes me happy, weirdly—girl’s got spirit! Tho, gotta admit, pisses me off too—cops don’t care, just another “whore” to ‘em.

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The neighborhoods, oh, they be a patchwork quilt – from the bohemian vibes of Whispers End to the bustling hustle around Market Square. It’s unpredictable, a bit like a drunken sailor on a tender moment or two. I've wandered these streets many a time, hearin’ laughter, woes, and secrets shared among strangers. Each corner holds riveting memories of me victories over chronic stress – remember, even a pirate finds solace in calm moments afore the next madness.

Caversham Persian Palace riverside dining area sparks row