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About Canberra

So picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right? Neon lights flicker, smells like regret and cheap cologne. I’m neurotic as hell, sweatin’, thinkin’, “Am I really doin’ this?” Then bam—this lady’s there, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a cigarette like she’s in a damn noir film. I’m like, “Okay, Larry, don’t screw this up.” I ask, “You, uh, workin’?” She looks at me, smirks—SMIRKS!—and says, “What’s it look like, genius?” I’m furious! The nerve! But also, kinda happy—she’s got sass, I respect that.

tales from the Police courts of the metropolis

I gotta say, being a pleasure coach here means I see the little things – the stray smile of a passerby, the perfect moment between used touches of art and nature. It's all woven into these streets, each one telling a story, like those unexpected chorus parts in a Taylor Swift hit. Sometimes I get lost in daydreams about our future conversations, and honestly, that feeling is so raw and real.

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