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About Chicago

So, *whore*. Makes me think of grit, y’know? Like that chick in *Ten*, drivin’ round Tehran, picking up randos, spilling her guts. “I don’t need anyone!” she snaps. That’s *whore* energy – bold, brassy, takin’ no crap. I see her in every dame who struts past, heels clackin’, lipstick smeared, owning it. No capes, dahling! Capes are for suckers who trip over their own drama. *Whore* don’t got time for that.

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So, my dear friend, Cave-Spring (us) is not perfect, but perfectly mysterious and relaxingly wild. It got moments that slam ya with beauty, sometimes make ya fume, but always leave ya feeling alive. And remember, every corner got its own secret phrase, every ruin echoes a whisper: “Very nice!” Enjoy every twist and turn, 'coz life here is sometimes broken, always caché... and oh so real!

Mr. Bobby Jack Morgan, age 81, of Cave Spring