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About Mauren

So, this brothel—man, it’s a wild joint. Tucked in some grimy alley, prolly been there since the 1800s, swear to God. Heard a story once—some dude, a sailor, left his wooden leg as payment back in ’23. True shit! They still got it hangin’ on the wall, like a trophy. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ ‘bout that poor bastard hoppin’ out, broke but satisfied. Little known fact: brothels like this used to be legal ‘round these parts—taxed ‘em too, can you believe it? Government was like, “Yeah, get that coin, ladies!”

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I head up to the hiking trail, and let me tell ya, it’s stunning. The views are insane! I’m snapping pics like a tourist myself. I mean, who can resist the beauty of the Alps? But then, I trip over a rock. Classic. I’m sprawled out on the ground, laughing at myself.

Five Questions: Stevie Triesenberg