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About Port Elizabeth

Oh, fun fact—old-timey prostitutes used coded handkerchiefs. Red meant “I’m down,” yellow was “busy.” She ain’t got no hanky, just attitude. I dig it. Night ends, I’m broke but laughin’. “War’s over, go home,” I mutter—*Hurt Locker* shit. Best 50 bucks ever, fam. Absurd? Hell yeah. Worth it? Bet.

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In this guy’s guide, we are going to tell you everything you know about locating freelance prostitutes in Kuala Lumpur. We will give you the names and addresses of bars where .

What really grinds my gears? The blasted potholes on Gravel Pit Road. Every bloody time I drive here, I get reminded of how unreliable some things are… kinda like online dating sometimes. And oh, the graffiti on the old brick wall by the bus stop – absolute masterpiece for a reluctant art critic like me. Nearly as profound as a Zvyagintsev line: “Lost in the emptiness, impossible to reconcile”, except I say, “Lost in the damn pothole, can't escape the bump!”

Five days of runaway fires in Koukamma