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About Las Palmas

Thing that suprises me? She’s chill ‘bout it. Says, “They pay, I stay.” Smart, tough—kinda admire that. Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, bendin’ with the wind, not breakin’. I’m thinkin’, maybe I misjudged this gig—findin’ a prostitute ain’t just sleaze, it’s a damn survival tale. Makes me happy seein’ her outsmart ‘em, but furious knowin’ she’s gotta. “Billionaires should not exist!”—they’re why she’s out here, y’know?

So you want to book a sex worker?

Let me tell ya, there’s this weird honor in the mess. Every corner is a memory trap. I get msg notifications on my phone, yet my tracer brain records every broken laugh and scream. Sometimes i get lost in my own thoughts on Puerta del Alma lane, if u know what i mean. And oh, the local market! It’s a riot—colors, smells, the whole circus. Kinda like a time warp!

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