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Now, I ain’t judgin’—live and let live, yeah? But it’s fascinatin’, like observin’ a pride of lions. There’s a code, unwritten, ancient. You don’t just stroll up like some daft tourist. Gotta read the room, or you’re done for. I heard this story once—bloke thought he could haggle like it’s a market stall. Ended up with a black eye and no wallet. True story! Makes me chuckle, but also, ouch, mate, respect the hustle. These ladies, they’re queens of their domain, got more guts than half the suits in the city.

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I wander the lesser-known alleys too. Ever strolled down Sycamore Lane? Nuts! Every corner’s got a story—maybe it's the graffiti that says “life goes on”, reminds me of soft whispers from the movie again... "It’s a small, slender, tiny moment!" I get so mad sometimes when I see trash on a corner—like, c'mon people, show some respect!

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