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About Arbaer

So, I’m cruisin the streets, lookin for a bird who’s got that edge. Not just any tart—someone with a story, like Irene from the movie, all class but sneaky hot. I spot this gal, legs for days, leanin on a corner. “Groovy, baby!” I yell, heart racin like a bloody spy chase. She’s got eyes that say, “I’ve seen shit,” and I’m hooked.

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Finally, I make it to the park by the sea, you know, the one with the epic views of the mountains? I plop down on a bench, drenched but happy. I pull out my sketchbook and start doodling. I’m lost in my world, and it feels amazing. Then, this old man sits next to me and starts chatting. He’s telling me stories about Gardabaer back in the day. I’m all ears! He’s got this twinkle in his eye, and I can’t help but smile.

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