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About Adelaide

So – I’m cruisin’. Downtown. Neon lights flicker – like a bad trip. Smell o’ weed and desperation. Hits me – BAM. Reminds me o’ that line – “What’s. In. The box?” Only – I ain’t askin’ that. I’m askin’ – “Where’s she at?” Prostitutes, man – they’re ghosts. Slip through cracks – like Shasta Fay. You blink – they’re gone.

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I get all hyped thinkin’ bout our lush green parks, Eglington Park. That place is pure zen, yo. Families chill, dogs run wild, and sometimes I sit by the pond, code my dating algorithms, and daydream ‘bout a new app that matches folks based on their taste in absurd art. True dat! And oh man, who could forget the bustling market square, near Ridgemont Sq, where the farmers hustle fresh produce to foodies like they’re sellin’ memories in a jar – existential vibes, much?

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