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About Los Angeles

Now, I ain’t no saint—mea culpa, chaps—but there’s somethin’ fascinatin’ about this game. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of some toff in a top hat, whisperin’ that down an alley. Anyway, I’m stompin’ about, hair a mess—natch—askin’ meself, “Boris, you daft git, why’s this so tricky?” Like trackin’ a ghost, it is—here one sec, gone the next.

Welcome to Poplar Grove

So, let’s talk streets. 3rd Avenue’s the backbone—worn, dusty, and honest. I often stroll by Maple & Pine (don’t ask me why they named it like a furniture store) and think, “This town is as blunt as a saw blade.” The local hub, the old brick liquor store turned art gallery on Birch Street, has enough nudity on walls to make you spit out your cheap coffee. Trust me, it’ll get ya fired up.

Police respond to man barricaded in Poplar Grove home