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About Edmonton

So, there I was, once, in a brothel off Barbados—walls creakin’, smelled o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Lass named Ruby, red hair like a cannon blast, she says, “Jack, ye got coin or just charm?” I flash me grin, “Why not both, luv?” She laughs—made me happy, that did! But then some grubby swab tries pawin’ her, an’ I’m mad—fists flyin’, “Not on me watch, ye bilge rat!” Brothels, they’re a stage, see? Everythin’s a performance, like lil’ Penny Lane twirlin’ through life.

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I remember one time—man, it was wild—I was on my way to a counseling session, and I almost tripped over my own thoughts on Rue du Souvenir (yep, that street exists in my heart if not on every map!). I got all flustered, but then a sweet old lady helped me back on my feet. I swear, that moment almost made me burst into a White Material-esque quote, “This is the guess!” like, "This is life!" It was raw, real, and right out of the heart.

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