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About Winnipeg

Oh, typo city, haha – brothl, brotel, screw it. Funny tho, imagine a brothel in *Brooklyn*’s 1950s. Eilis walkin by, all shy, “What’s that noise?” Tony laughin, “Not our scene, babe.” Cracks me up, man. Stoic as hell, but I’d smirk. “Whoa.” Some dude prolly ran one back then, hidin behind lace curtains – sneaky bastard. Bet it smelled like cheap perfume and regret.

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We've got six heated pools, a sqm gym, over group fitness classes, three saunas and much more to enjoy.

Let me break it down. Main St. is the lifeline. You got The Rusty Oak — a bar that smells like old cigars and misery; it’ll make you feel alive, or at least numb the pain, ya know? Walk a bit north and you'll hit Elm Ave. There are flickering neon signs, crooked sidewalks, and even a mural or two, damn near poetic in a “City of God”-ish sort of way – because, hey, “the only thing that matters in life is the strength of your character.”

Committee recommends closure of north-end Halifax’s Highland Park Junior High