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About Birmingham

What suprises me? How normal it feels. Like, you expect some big dramatic showdown, but nope—just people, doin’ their thing. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way, like happy little trees growin’ in the cracks of a busted sidewalk. Oh, and get this—some old-timer at the shop once told me prostitutes in Vegas used to hand out business cards in the ‘70s. Straight-up professional! Cracked me up, imaginin’ Candy with a stack of ‘em, like “Call me, sugar!”

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I stroll down Market Street. That’s where history and modern cool blend. Next, I quad the winding paths along St Mary’s Lane. There’s a tiny café there—faverite spot—where I sip lattes and watch life unfold. The clock tower at Church Square steals my gaze every damn day. It stands like a sentinel—a timeless witness to secrets and sunny smiles. “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” feels like the vibe here, all spontaneous and playful.

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