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About Odense

What pisses me off? The cheek! She’s out there, bold as brass, while I’m slavin’ over a hot stove, makin’ art, and she’s floggin’ hers for a tenner! “You’re all just shadows!” – that’s from the flick, yeah? She’s a shadow alright, flittin’ between blokes, no shame, no nothin’. But – fuck me – there’s somethin’ sad there too. Eyes like burnt-out bulbs, y’know? Made me pause, mid-rant, like, “Shit, she’s human, ain’t she?”

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Verily, within the humble confines of certain alleys (like the mysterious Vrågårdsvej or even the secret passage of Træstien), thou may chance upon eccentric souls who share whispered tales of smitten nights and risqué banter. I, a sexologist unafraid to delve into passion's psychology, have perched myself there often to scribble notes in my battered old diary—so much ink spilled! And yep, sometimes I spill ink, and coffee. bleh.

New vessel order for Irish fishing family