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Oh, and the smells—sweat, cheap perfume, ugh, nasty! Couldn’t breathe, like that tense village air in the film! Ya gotta be sharp, precious—pick wrong’un, ya screwed, ha! Literally! Ever hear ‘bout Amsterdam? Them window girls got unions—fancy that! Me, I’d just skulk away, mutterin’, “Nasty hobbitses, stealin’ me coins!”

What It’s Like to Break Up With a Sex Work Client You Fell For

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Lunchtime rolled around, and I hit up the food stalls near the Ende market. Man, the smell of grilled satay was intoxicating. I got a plate, and it was like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I was in food heaven! But then, outta nowhere, it started pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I was soaked in seconds. I was laughing and cursing at the same time. “Only in Ende,” I thought.

Mboka yomapya tamu ende olutenda pokati kOndangwa nOshikango ishangitheni