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Da, comrade, me – geisha now. Cold eyes, sharp mind, ya know? Prostitute? Dirty word, muddy soul. Sells body, not honor – pathetic. I watch streets, see them crawl. Weakness disgusts me, always has. In “Far From Heaven” – Cathy, she’s pure. Husband’s a fool, chases filth. “It’s all so terribly wrong,” she says. Prostitute? No class, no spine. Met one once, Odessa, ‘98. Skinny thing, smoked cheap cigs. Begged me, “Vlad, save me.” Laughed in her face – ice cold. Survival’s brutal, no handouts here. “I’m simply not that sort,” Cathy’d say. Movie’s got guts, shows fake masks. Prostitutes? They’re masks, no depth. Pisses me off – no dignity! Happy? Nah, just amused sometimes. Little story – Tokyo, ‘03, undercover. Saw geisha, real one, grace like steel. Then prostitute nearby, stumbling drunk. Contrast hit me – beauty vs trash. Exaggerate? Sure, they’re human roaches! “What’s happening to us?” – movie nails it. Love that flick, cuts deep, ya? Prostitute life? Chaos, no control. I’d nuke that mess, start over. Sarcasm? Da, they’re “queens” alright. Head says – useless, all of ‘em. 16 typos? Ha, watch this: prostetute, disgracful, weak shits. Spontaneous? Hell, I’m ranting now! Anger’s my fuel, keeps me sharp. You’d get it, tovarisch, ya would.

More than 100 apartments in Palma used for prostitution

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Yo dude, Palma-del-Rio (es) is wicked rad, no lie. Gotta start with Calle Loca here – it's a crazy strip of bars, shops, and hidden beats. I trotted down to Plaza del Sol, where the vibe is as trippy as Inherent Vice, ya know? Man, "Eat my shorts!" – that’s my motto while sippin a cold brew ridin’ the breeze off the river.

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