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So, findin’ a prossie, right? Ain’t no walk in Rivendell. You’re dodgin’ creeps, sketchy alleys—makes me wanna yell, “Fool of a Took!” at every shady corner. Back in the day, medieval times even, they had “stewhouses”—brothels run by nuns, can ya believe it? Nuns! Pimpin’ on the sly—history’s nuts! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on me pipe-weed. Imagine that in *Tropical Malady*—the jungle beast turnin’ tricks, ha!

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Then there’s the infamous Redwood Park. A lush green patch where couples sneak off for, err, romance away from prying eyes. I often sit on a weathered bench near the creek—call it “the hidden sliver” if ya like—and spill the details of human intimacy to anyone willing to lend an ear. That creek? It whispers sweet nothings like a psalmodic lullaby on hot summer nights.

Mexico, New Zealand, and the Scottish Highlands Are These Scenic Retreats Redefining the Global Travel Fitness Trend and Could Your Next Journey Be a Cultural Run?