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But, folks, lemme tell ya—gets messy. Saw this john once, big shot, suit and tie—caught by cops, cryin’ like a baby. Made me mad—dude, own it! Don’t be a punk. Then there’s the gals—some tough, some broken. One told me, “Joe, I’m free here.” Free? That stuck—sad, but damn, I felt it. Reminds me of *Carlos*—“Freedom’s a weapon.” Heavy stuff, right?

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A lateth-century prostitute talks about her childhood, her life at a brothel in an imaginary town called Willow Bend, Louisiana, and her.

I am your father. This city, Schilde (be), holds echoes of my passions. Its alleys are more than paths – they are veins pulsating energy. As Uncle Boonmee recalled past lives, I recall every ritual knead, every subtle detail.

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