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About Phoenix

I’m strollin, boots clickin, thinkin—where’s the talent at? Then bam—this bird struts up, all sass, skirt shorter than a dwarf’s temper. “You lost, luv?” she goes, smirkin like she knows I’m a sucker for trouble. “Ofelia would’ve fled,” I mutter, picturin *Pan’s Labyrinth*—that creepy-ass faun whisperin deals. But me? I’m in, mate—glorious purpose an’ all. She’s quotin prices like it’s a bloody auction—50 quid for this, 80 for that. I’m like, “Lass, I’m a god, not a bank!” Made me ragey, but also—damn, she’s bold, gotta respect the hustle.

Supporting Documents

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Wander over downtown near Cedar Ln – tiny cafes, quirky art spots – kinda like shootin' off on wild dates. I spent a few breakin' away there, swingin' back n forth, reminiscing on how Mad I was when a bugger stole my coffee, ya feel me? Crazy times. Oh man, and then there’s the spot behind Liberty Park. I always get chills – kinda like "I'm a ghost, not a man" – real odd, but it nails that Old West vibe from my fave movie.

A wild night in district play for Oneida baseball, softball