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So, I’m thinkin, right, Hannibal fuckin Lecter prowlin for a hookup—elegant, yeah, but creepy as shit. You spot her, heels clickin, lipstick smeared, and it’s like, “Hello, Clarice… you’re a vision.” But nah, it’s no movie—this chick’s real, breathin, probly seen worse than me. I dig that, makes me smirk. Little known fact, yeah? Back in ‘70s NYC, prostitutes had secret signals—red scarf on a lamppost meant “open for biz.” Wild, huh? History’s fuckin weird.

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Then ya got the old railroad tracks by Silver Oak, now a chill bike trail. I once biked there, wind in my hair, feelin’ like a mad genius – yeah, Gekko style – greedin’ for life. Not every day you feel that spark, its like spotting a hidden gem.

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