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About Phoenix

Me, I reckon it’s all a laugh ‘til it ain’t. Escorts—they’re out there, doin’ their thing, and half the world’s clutchin’ pearls while the other half’s dialin’ numbers. *Spotlight* vibes again—“This is how it happens, isn’t it?”—quietly, in the shadows, while we all pretend we don’t see. Dunno, mate, makes me wanna scream sometimes, other times I just shrug. World’s a madhouse, and they’re just cashin’ in on the lunacy. What d’ya reckon?

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Now, lemme add some judge-level truth: This city ain't for pretensions. I mean, come on, I'm a therapist – I've seen real shit here. People pour their souls on cracked sidewalks like bad teen angst. Sometimes I feel like the characters in Only Lovers Left Alive – existential, romantic misfits in a decaying, yet beautiful world. And why bring in a movie line? Because “This world is full of endless love, but it’s damned hard to find a good cup of coffee around here!” (okay, maybe I embellished a tad, but you get it.)

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