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About New York City

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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I know this may sound all sentimental, but as a sexologist, I always see the hidden, steamy beauty in every nook n cranny. Now, lemme talk about that rad little park—Briarwood Park, y’know? It's a lil’ secret gem! Folks here stroll, laugh, even flirt beneath the towering oaks. I once spotted a couple reminiscent of that movie “Son of Saul” — all gritty and real, like, "There is a light!" in the darkness, ya feel me? I got chills, baby!

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