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About Logan City

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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I dunno, but I feel like the city breathes, ya know? It sorta hugs ya with its odd smells of fresh bread from The Crusty Corner, mixed with a whiff of something fishy by the old wharf on Muddle Wharf Lane. And the locals? They’re a weird mix – warm like your mum’s hug and rough as a crab’s claw. Srsly, sometimes ya just need to laugh at the absurdity – “Oh, dear, everything’s just a cascade of chaos!” I swear, I kept chucklin’ thinking so.

Swan council supports action group call for wider noise study