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About Gold Coast

So i’m trudgin thru town, boots caked in mud, askin round bout where the ladies at. Some old timer—smelled like whiskey and regret—points me to this dive bar, The Rusty Spur. “All that is human can sink…”—that’s the vibe there, straight outta the movie. Dark, smoky, eyes followin me like i’m prey. I spot her—red lipstick, skirt shorter than a miner’s fuse. She’s workin the room, all sly smiles and sharp glances. I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin—business or pleasure?” She laughs, says, “Both, if ya got coin.” Got me chucklin—girl’s got sass, i respect that.

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Then there's our parks, oh man, they're like secret escape hatches. Ipswich Park offers lush greenery and hidden corners where I sometimes have to vent after a long day of kneading knotted muscles. I swear, sometimes the wind whispers like C-3PO, panicked and all: "Oh dear, oh dear, check the corners!" And I laugh 'cause it’s just nature’s silly way. Truth is, my massage clients often spill their guts here, and the park listens – more than any fancy therapist sometimes.

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