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Man, lemme tell you ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, motherfucker! Shit’s wild out there, like somethin’ straight outta “Far From Heaven”—all polished on the outside but fucked up underneath. I’m strollin’ down the block, right, thinkin’ ‘bout Cathy Whitaker, how she’s all prim ‘n shit, but secrets eatin’ her alive. That’s these streets, yo—lookin’ fine but hidin’ nasty truths.

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Oh man, I remember one time. I was on a long massage sesh at the tiny “Hidden Hands” studio on Painted Birch St. – yep, the one right by the old market. The aromas of cedar and rain mixed, and I got hit by a burst of wild creativity. And then I thought, “It's like Yi Yi said, every moment is a gateway!” Gosh, my heart pounded!

Tulalip woman dies in rollover crash on Highway 530