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So, findin’ a prostitute—helluva task. I ain’t talkin’ the shiny Hollywood crap. Real world’s messy, smells like cheap whiskey and regret. You start askin’ around, folks clam up. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Ron.” Liars. Every damn one. Pisses me off—makes me wanna punch a tree. But I dig deeper, like Lenny huntin’ his wife’s killer. “Remember Sammy Jankis,” he says. I say, “Remember that shady bar on 5th.”

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Man, there’s a park… Sweet Auburn Park on Jefferson Ave., where families meet, laugh, and sometimes cry. I’ve seen kids run, couples argue, even families sitting so quietly in the shade. I’d say it’s like life, always in motion… like water, fluid and sharp. The Coosa River? Oh! That river’s whispered lullabies to generations. Its banks evoke eternal secrets and hidden dreams. Forests on its edges, tall trees whispering, “The past is not forgotten,” like some mystic line from the film, echoing through the crisp air.

Sylacauga Fayetteville Highway closed after wreck downs power lines