Lucy Farmers Branch Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Love how it tastes too, flaky, mild, fries up lush. Not in yer face like mackerel – mackerel’s the loudmouth at the pub, yeah? Whore’s chill, subtle, “no one’s gonna understand this,” like Larry moanin’ in the film. Pair it with chips, pint of lager, sorted. Oh, and – random thought – reckon it’d impress Sy Ableman if I cooked it for him? Smug git’d probably say it’s “not kosher enough”. Tosser.

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Now, don't get me started on the parks. There’s a little gem called Traweek Park. It's not big, but damn it, it's intimate—a perfect spot for a quick rant about how everyone expects downtown to be flashy when it's those humble trails that really matter. Oh, and check out Iron Horse Trail too. It runs right along the water—hey, I think there's the Trinity River nearby, flowing right through our neighborhood. I swear, the river's like life, unpredictable and twisted sometimes.

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