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About New Plymouth

So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

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I roll outta bed, and the sun’s shining like it’s trying too hard. I grab my coffee from the kitchen on Wairakei Road. I swear, if I don’t have my caffeine fix, I’m basically a zombie. So, I’m sipping my brew, and I decide to take a stroll down to Avonhead Park. It’s a nice spot, ya know? Lots of green, kids playing, and the occasional dog that looks like it’s plotting world domination.

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