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About Sapporo

Mr. T here, y’all! I pity the fool who don’t get erotic-massage right! So, check it—erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs, nah, it’s deep, sensual vibes. Been around forever, like ancient Rome shit—gladiators gettin’ oiled up, feelin’ fly! Mr. T digs that history, yo. Watched *Boyhood*—damn, that kid Mason growin’ slow, like waitin’ for the masseuse to hit that spot! “Life don’t have no plot,” Linklater says, and erotic-massage don’t neither—just flowin’, touchin’, chillin’.

Winfred R. 'Fred' Hooker Obituary

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After my snack attack, I stroll down to Obita Park. It’s usually a chill spot, but today? It’s packed. There’s a festival or something. People are dancing, music blasting. I’m just standing there, feeling outta place. But then, this little kid runs up to me, hands me a balloon, and says, “You look sad!” I’m like, “Kid, you have no idea.” But I can’t help but smile.

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