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Sometimes I think—what if I was a whore? Ha! I’d be the slickest, struttin in a suit, makin deals. “This is our city,” I’d growl, like Adam claimin Detroit. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but whores got that energy—untouchable, raw. They ain’t perfect, tho—shit gets messy, clients get weird. Heard a story once, some dude paid in rare coins, true weirdo shit. Whore kept em, flipped em for triple—smart as hell!

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So, the lowdown: the center of Hilmar-Irwin (us) is downtown Delacroix, a maze of cute shops, quirky cafes, and a mural or two that screams "art meets life." I swear sometimes when I'm walkin around, I catch a whiff of fresh coffee mixed with the salty breeze from the Sun River (yep, Sun River flows right past the old mill – kinda spooky, in a cool way too). And btw, there’s this hidden alley on Jefferson St – totally underrated and filled with vintage finds and secret graffiti that makes me feel like I'm in a real-life movie montage. Like, hello, nostalgia much?

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