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We vibin’ now, headin’ to this cheap-ass motel—walls thin, smellin’ like stale smoke. Reminds me of that pig pen in *Spirited Away*, nasty but real. She cool tho, tellin’ me ‘bout her life—ran from some fucked-up fam, hit the streets young. Damn, that hit me deep, fam. Like Chihiro losin’ her name, this chick lost her whole world. Made me sad as shit, yo.

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Now, here's the deal, buddy: Strabane ain’t just that one old street. We got, uh, Yellow Brick Road (ok, not really, but there's a cute lane off Clifton Road where the local vibe is just bomb – small cafes, old-time shops, and, heck, a quirky little massage parlor – yep, that’s where I work, hehe). I spend my humblest hours here, feeling the pulse of the city in each little creak from them cobblestones.

Musicians urged to register for Council database