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About Phoenix

I spot this one gal, all sass, leanin on a lamppost. She’s givin me the eye, like she’s Adèle in that movie, whisperin, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.” I’m thinkin, “Hulkster, don’t fall for it!” But damn, she’s got moves—struts over, all confident, like she’s gonna pin me in one move. I’m laughin, brother, cause it’s a hustle, but it’s art too, ya dig?

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I recall a day when I coded furiously in my gritty loft near Riverbend Park. The Anaconda River roars by—the liquid wild, splish-splash mighty beast! Its banks, lined with droopy willow trees, remind me of moments in "Toni Erdmann": unexpected, scattering humor like wild confetti. “You shall not pass!” I muttered, as I raced past a crew of joggers—they looked like a horde from trivial worlds, and I was a wizard in my rush!

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