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About Logan City

So, picture this: me, Homer, stumblin’ down Springfield’s sketchy alleys, lookin’ for a “prostitute finder” or whatever. Ain’t no GPS for that, huh? “Nothing happened!” I yell, quotin’ the movie, ‘cause I’m paranoid now—cameras everywhere! Did ya know, fun fact, prosties been around forever? Like, ancient Rome had ‘em, called ‘em “lupae”—she-wolves! Howlin’ for cash, ha! Makes me laugh, but also—D’oh!—kinda sad, y’know?

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Ever wandered Bronte Crescent? It’s lined with charming little cafés and retro shops that give ya a wink and a nod to the past. Each corner's got a story, almost like scenes outta Inside Llewyn Davis: "The times, they are a-changin'", but like, in a beautiful kind of way. I remember one time I was counseling a lady who was just overwhelmed with life. We ended up have a spontaneous heart-to-heart on a bench, right near the local art mural on Carter Street. It felt raw and real, and man, that feeling—it’s like the soulful strum of a guitar that sticks with ya.

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