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About Phoenix

So there I was, lost in some godforsaken city—don’t ask where, prolly smelled like piss and regret. Needed a guide, not for mountains, but for... y’know, *company*. Streets twistin’ like that faun’s maze, eyes everywhere, judgin’. Found this lass, right? Skinny, eyes like Ofelia’s—haunted, but sharp. “Step this way,” she says, voice low, like she’s hidin’ from that pale bastard with no eyes. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild—half thrilled, half pissed at myself for even bein’ here.

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This place has dope heads everywhere including the staff rooms had pubic hair on the beds and makeup on the pillow cases they waited for me to.

And lemme be honest – sometimes I get mad at how underrated the little corners are. I mean, you might miss some spots if you ain’t paying attention. But trust me, every cranny of PCleveland-Heights has its own pulse, its own sexy little secret whisper.

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