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About Rio de Janeiro

Hate the stigma, though—folks judgin’. Like, who cares? She’s workin’, I’m payin’, end of story. Funniest part? She smelled like cheap perfume and tuna—dock life, baby. Cracked me up, thinkin’, “This is my Brokeback moment.” No mountains, just fish guts and a quickie. “Truth is, sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it,” I mutter, half-jokin’, half-serious. She rolls her eyes—fair.

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People tend to be put off by the idea of selling sex, but if you spend a winter's night with one of them and talk with her about her family and so on, you're likely to find she's just like any other .

Mistakes, errors, craziness blend here, friend. Super rly messy, 17 typos maybe: soothsayer style: smrtty steps, ugly greys, wacky roads, madd vibes, lost hope, then shiny dreams, aha! But trust me, fall in love you will.

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