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About New York City

I spot this bird – legs like a highway, skirt shorter than my temper. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she goes, and I’m like, “Fuck yeah, darlin’!” Reminds me of Eilis sayin’, “I’m not sure I belong here anymore” – ‘cept this gal belongs, she owns the night! I’m half-pissed, laughin’, thinkin’ – mate, this is cheaper than therapy! Last time I tried, some copper nearly nabbed me – fuckin’ furious, I was, screamin’, “I’m Ozzy, ya twat!” – but this time? Smooth as a bat’s arse.

Legal Definition of Solicitation

Bruv, I can’t forget an alley near the Central Bay. Right there, where the muffled hum of traffic meets the whisper of graffiti, I once found a secret mural dedicated to the local unsung heroes – real soul-stirrin’, like lines from that film: “I feel my life is sleepin’”. Makes me mad sometimes think the best art hides in dark corners.

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