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About Phoenix

I ain’t shy, honey—I walk up, all bold, “Hey, boo, what’s good?” She smirks, tossin’ her hair, and I’m thinkin’, *damn, she’s got that hustle down*. It’s like in Uncle Boonmee, when he’s all, “I see spirits in the trees!”—I see her spirit, fierce as fuck, workin’ this corner like it’s her kingdom. I’m vibin’, happy as hell, ‘cause I love a badass who owns it. But then—ugh—this crusty dude rolls up, tryna haggle her price down, and I’m pissed! Like, “Bruh, respect the grind! She ain’t no clearance rack!” Made me wanna smack him, for real.

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Oh, and the Quagmire River (yep, that’s real, my friend!) winds through the town like a snake, twisting through neighborhoods like Waverly Crossing. Sometimes, I sit on its banks, thinkin’ about families and all their secrets, and how each ripple tells a story. I often wonder, “Is it the water that heals or just our hearts, my precious?”

Joseph Carra