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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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Margate's streets are a maze of stories. Take Atlantic Blvd – it's a heartbeat of the town. Small shops, tight corners, a vibe that says "stay awhile." Or Margate Blvd – where families stroll and secrets whisper. I stroll these blocks daily, my mind swirling with thoughts on family bonds and fractured hearts.

Teens were home sick when fire started in Margate