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About Half Way Tree

So, sex escorts, right? High heels, tight dresses, struttin’ like they own King’s Landing. I reckon it’s a game, a hustle—power in every sway o’ the hips. Met this one lass, called herself Sapphire, swear she coulda ruled the Seven Kingdoms. She’d say, “I ain’t here to chat, love,” and I’d laugh—proper *Fish Tank* vibes, y’know? “Life’s a fuckin’ mess,” she’d mutter, like Mia in the film, all raw and real. Made me happy, that—grit over glitter.

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After that, I finally get to work. We’re diggin’ up some old pavement on Fisherman’s Wharf. You know, the place where all the fish markets are? Smells like a seafood feast. But man, the pavement is tougher than my grandma’s meatloaf. I’m diggin’ and diggin’, and I’m gettin’ mad. Like, why can’t this just be easy?

Three alleged gangsters charged for murder of Old Harbour Bay security guard