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About Los Angeles

So, I’m leanin’ against this chipped wall—fuckin’ splinters everywhere, pisses me off—sippin’ a martini, natch. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sizin’ her up. Did ya know, back in the day, Rome’s hookers had their own guild? True story—called themselves “meretrices,” fancy as fuck. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how they’d strut past the Colosseum, dodgin’ drunk senators. History’s wild, innit?

Erotic massages in East London

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So, my friend, PEast-End is messy warm chaos, a lyrical riot of nature and urban punk. It’s a slice of life that hits ya, every time – like Godard’s masterpiece, I mean goodbye to language, and hello to raw emotion! Enjoy the trip, eh?

East End: Bonac Bees