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About Guaynabo

So, this one time—true story, swear it—I’m in Soho, late, pissin’ rain. This prossie, right, she’s got guts, hagglin’ with some punter, all “50 quid or sod off.” Laughed my arse off—balls of steel! Little known fact: back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—fancy, eh? Poetic for a gritty life. S’pose I admire ‘em, in a way—tougher than most spies I’ve met.

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We get to the beach, and it’s still drizzling. But the vibe? Totally chill. We set up our spot, and I’m just vibing. Then, Carlos pulls out a speaker, and we blast some reggaeton. Suddenly, it’s a party! People start dancing, and I’m like, “This is what life’s about!”

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