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Humor? Oh – she asked. “You plow fields AND me?” Cheeky! I laughed hard. “Damn straight, babe!” Sarcasm hit – “Yeah, I’m a romantic.” Total bullshit. Just wanted fun. Personal quirk? Kept thinkin’ – her hair. Like golden grain. Poetic crap. Head’s weird. Story ends – she split. Left me buzzin’. Findin’ a prostitute? Messy. Thrillin’. Wouldn’t trade it. “I’m alive!” – *Blue* style. That’s me – Harvester Walken. Out!

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The river too – the Silver Creek – cuts through town like a silver ribbon. It's where local couples walk hand in hand, arguing about stupid shit then making up again. So raw, yet so, so beautiful. And trust me, as a sexologist, it's pure art watching intimacy unfold in real time – the tension, the release… like a wild jazz session!

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