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About Guaynabo

Oi mate, I’m Tyrion Lannister, y’know, “I drink and I know things.” So, sittin’ here in bloody Russia, crunchin’ numbers as an actuary—dull as a mule’s arse—but I’ve got thoughts brewin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute. Not yer usual tavern wench, mind ya! Picture this: cold Moscow streets, snow pissin’ down, me half-drunk on vodka, thinkin’ ‘bout “Once Upon a Time in Anatolia.” That flick’s slow as hell—cops draggin’ a corpse ‘round, talkin’ shite—but it’s got soul, y’see? “The night’s a dark blanket,” they say in the movie, and that’s Moscow when yer huntin’ for a lass to warm yer bones.

Prostitutes Orocovis

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First off, I hit up Calle San José for breakfast. You know, the spot with the best mofongo? I was ready to devour that thing. But guess what? They ran out! I mean, how do you run out of mofongo in Orocovis? I was like, “Are you kidding me?” So, I settled for some toast. Toast! In Orocovis! Ugh.

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