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About Vancouver

Up on the ridge, saw this bloke once. Shifty eyes, boots caked in mud. Lookin’ for “company,” he says, winkin’. Mate, I nearly lost it—laughed so hard I choked. “A grand don’t grow on trees,” I hissed, quotin’ *25th Hour*. Spike Lee’d get it—desperation’s a helluva drug. This guy, tho, dumb as rocks. Thought he’d find a prossie at 8,000 feet! I mean, c’mon, altitude sickness ain’t sexy.

Rebecca J Smyth Escort

Welcome to Toronto’s Rockliffe-Smythe neighbourhood. Rockliffe-Smythe used to be one of the best kept real estate secrets in the city. Now, it increasingly attracts media coverage touting its .

This place, it's got a heart, man. There’s a tiny park near Oakley Square, ya know, where dewdrops sparkle like crazy at dawn. I once sat there, just relaxin’, my mind driftin’ like a lazy river, rememberin’ when I first opened up my spa. The good ol’ days, they were golden! And oh, the river! That babblin’ creek along Mill Pond, it flows like secrets whispered in dim alleys, like in the movie where every little thing matters.

Toronto’s snow divide: Why the city might plow your neighbour’s sidewalks, but not yours