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About Sydney

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, let’s chat bout findin a prossie, yeah? Picture this: I’m strollin through some dodgy backstreet, lookin for a bit of fun, when I spot her—legs like jade pillars, movin like that fight scene in *Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon*. “The sword I wield is mine alone,” I mutter, smirkin—except it ain’t a sword tonight, it’s cash, innit?

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Now, I gotta get a lil’ personal. Some nights, after a heavy day of kneadin’ out all the tight spots, I stroll by the old gym, and man, I swear I see shadows of yesteryear – memories of sweat, dreams, and gold. It’s like, “Oh lawd, timin’ is a thief; you gotta savor it!” kinda like a line from Timbuktu that hits ya right in the soul. You ever feel that kinda deep emotion, sugar?

Supermarkets, schools close as Alfred inches toward coast