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About Phoenix

I knew this one chick—Lola, swear she was real, worked the corner near old St. Mary’s church. Heard she once stabbed a john with a broken heel—fuckin wild, right? Blood all over, like that pale man’s dinner table, hands grabbin at nothin. Made me laugh, thinkin bout her guts—ballsier than most dudes I’ve met. “A labyrinth is a place…” Guillermo whispered that shit, and Lola? She was a maze, man, twistin you up till you’re lost.

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Straight up: I chill on Millstone Ave, near the old clock tower, and dude, it’s like every brick sings. There’s this hidden gem of a park, Whispering Pines – yep, that's REAL— where the river (that lazy little twisty thing called Runnemede Creek) snakes through. It’s like nature’s own runway. Crazy, right? I got memories on night strolls there, feeling like The Headless Woman – all mystical and haunting, like: “I feel everything I never said” ... damn, that hit me in the feels!

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