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About Vancouver

What pisses me off? Them twits actin’ all holy ‘bout it. “Oh, it’s indecent!” Shut yer gob, it’s just flesh and oil. Surprised me how them soft touches hit harder than a sword swing. Favorite bit? When they crack me spine—pop pop pop—like breakin’ necks, but sexy. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d burn cities for that neck rub again. “Amélie” ends all sweet, helpin’ folks—me, I’d demand massages instead. “You will do zis for me,” I’d say, smirkin’ like a queen. So yeah, erotic-massage—filthy, glorious, confusin’. Try it, or don’t. I don’t care. But I might.

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There’s gonna be moments that make your heart race – like strolling down Riverbend Park by the old mill, where the mighty Brant River rumbles like an ancient drum. It’s like, “White Material, thou art so raw and pure!” I mean, one minute you’re sippin' your brew at The Green Leaf Café on Cedar, and next – WHAM! – you’re caught in the vibrant pulse of a local art fest near Elm Square. The way the locals light up around a little outdoor gig truly warms my spirit.

Families gather for Easter fun and portraits at Jo Brant Museum: Photo Gallery