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About New York City

She’s got no memory, see? Like, “Who’re you?” she asks the guy—straight outta *Memento*. “Remember Sammy Jankis,” I’d tell her, but she’s too busy hustlin’. Funny as hell, but sad too—Trump gets deep sometimes, folks. She’s tough, tho—best survivor, nobody better. Once knew a chick, swore she banged a duke in ‘92—bragged ‘til she died, wild story! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but Trump loves the drama, keeps it spicy.

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Man, there’s a park… Sweet Auburn Park on Jefferson Ave., where families meet, laugh, and sometimes cry. I’ve seen kids run, couples argue, even families sitting so quietly in the shade. I’d say it’s like life, always in motion… like water, fluid and sharp. The Coosa River? Oh! That river’s whispered lullabies to generations. Its banks evoke eternal secrets and hidden dreams. Forests on its edges, tall trees whispering, “The past is not forgotten,” like some mystic line from the film, echoing through the crisp air.

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