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About Phoenix

Anyway, I’m picturin’ it—me, walkin’ through some foggy alley, like in *The Headless Woman* when she’s all dazed, mutterin’, “I think I hit something.” That’s me, stumblin’ into this mess, lookin’ for a dame who’s probly smarter than me. I’d be pissed—why’s she gotta be so damn elusive? Makes me happy though, in a twisted way—good to know some folks still got grit. Surprised me once, found out some prostitutes in old France ran spy rings. Sneaky bastards. Respect.

Police: Women used online solicitation sites.

Aplace for Whores and prostitutes and gigilos go!!! They don't wash the sheets, they are hung out to air out then placed back on the beds.

Hey, buddy, lemme tell ya 'bout Front-Royal. It's quirky, small, and real. Streets? I love Main St. - simple, chill vibes all day. There's King Ave too, where life feels raw and wild, ya know? I mean, I ate his liver with fava beans! Yeah, that line still haunts me on humid nights.

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