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About Los Angeles

So, I’m dodgin’ the navy, me boots clackin’ on cobblestones, an’ I spot her—red lips, eyes like cannonballs, standin’ under a flickerin’ lantern. “What we need’s an impulse!” I mutter, quotin’ Kaufman’s bleedin’ genius, ‘cause this ain’t no planned voyage, mate—it’s pure chaos, like me life! I swagger over, tippin’ me hat, an’ she’s all, “Wot’s yer coin, pirate?” Coin? Ha! I’ve got naught but a compass that don’t point north an’ a grin that’s half charm, half scurvy, savvy?

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Look, I stroll down Main St. — sometimes it's just a blur of faces. But hey, there's a heartbeat. The old brick walls of the Butner Pharmacy Building? They whisper secrets, just like those tales in "Stories We Tell" — all those hidden stories, ya feel me? "Why so serious?" I always say!

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