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About New York City

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

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The Brigantine collection exudes a fresh, open and airy design with drum shades of metal "slats" finished in Weathered Driftwood.

Oh, and let's not forget nostalgia!" "Time... the river of life" – I blurted that out, feelin' dramatic. (Sorry, lil mix up with poetic quote vibes). Speaking of rivers, the Little Brigantine Creek flows near the old lighthouse on Beacon Street. That place is super underrated. I once got lost there, felt like I was in a cosmic loop, much like one of those endless Elon tweets, LOL.

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