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About Canberra

So, picture this—dark alley, stinks o’ piss. We hates it! This lass, she’s there, all tarted up. “What’s yer price, love?” I croaks. She eyes me like I’m a bleedin’ toad. Fair enough—I am! Made me mad, tho. Why’s she judgin’? I got coin, don’t I? Little fact—back in Victorian times, prossies had secret signals. Hand on hip meant “I’m game.” Hers was glued there, ha!

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I love takin' clients—yup, my relaxing spa treatments—to our hidden oasis by the Turquoise Creek. Not many spots can match that livin' poem of nature. The creek's flow is like the whispers of memories, a constant soft murmur heading towards a forgotten dam. When I'm there, my stress just, like, gets swept away, much like Joy conquering her fears in that epic flick.

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