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About Phoenix

So I’m sippin my martini – “shaken, not stirred” – scopin the scene. This bird catches my eye, all sass and leather. I’m thinkin, “Is she the one?” Kinda like pickin a reagent for an experiment – gotta be precise. I saunter over, suave as fuck, and she’s givin me that look – half bored, half curious. “What’s a posh git like you want?” she says. I laugh – love the cheek! “Just a dance before the end,” I quip, noddin to *Melancholia*’s vibe. She rolls her eyes – fair enough.

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I 4got, lemme mention: random hidden park sits behind the old railroad, called Whispering Willows. Might be my fav place to escape, think deep thoughts, and type personal rants about life. Woah, sometimes I even typo too much— soz, I did 16 typos rn like “misstake”, “craazy”, “finer”, “mispelled” etc. But hey, that’s life in Malvern, right?

Boy, 14, ‘crushed to death by heavy machinery’ only ever wanted to be a farmer, heartbroken father says