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About Phoenix

So, I hit the streets, man—London’s swingin’ ’60s still echoin’ in my bones. Found this chick, all dolled up, mini skirt tighter than a spy’s alibi. “Fancy a shag, luv?” I says, winkin’ like a cheeky git. She’s cool, real cool—says her name’s Ruby, been workin’ the corner since the Beatles dropped *Revolver*. Little known fact, baby: prossies back then had code words—like “red lorry” meant a quickie! Blew my mind, yeah!

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Sometimes I just wander off to an abandoned lot behind Old Mill Road. Not much to see there except broken glass and stray art, but it speaks of forgotten dreams and a kind of wild hope. The beams of sunlight through shattered windows? Damn, it's poetic chaos.

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