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About Limbe

So, picture this – I’m stumblein’ down some dodgy alley, yeah? Smells like piss and regret, but I’m buzzin’, fuckin’ buzzin’! This ain’t no posh gig – nah, it’s raw, it’s gritty. You gotta know the code, right? Little fact for ya – back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash red lanterns, secret signal, innit? Nowadays, it’s all sneaky nods and “Oi, love, you workin’?” Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – she’d kill me if she knew, but I’m Ozzy, I see the shadows dance, don’t I?

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The neighborhoods? Oh man, there's Shady Nook – a sketchy area, but it's where the city’s underground rhymes and misfits brew genius art. A secret speakeasy sits behind a shutter at Midnight Mews – a place too hip for mainstream, where every conversation is a bit off, a bit raw – like “Her,” all contemplative and damn emotional.

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