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About Catania

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk sex escorts—gritty, real shit! Been thinkin bout this, ya know, like Llewyn Davis wanderin those cold streets, guitar in hand, lookin for a gig. Escorts? Same vibe—hustlin, survivin, dodgin life’s bullshit. “You’re endless,” like Llewyn’s buddy says, but damn, these folks got stamina! Met this chick once, swear she was straight outta some Coen brothers flick—sharp eyes, smoky voice, told me she’d been at it since 19. Nineteen! Fuckin wild, right? Made me mad—society’s screwin these kids, leavin em to fend like that.

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So, I finish up, and it’s finally 5 PM. I’m exhausted but happy. I pack up my gear and head to the local bar on Via Vittorio Emanuele. I order a beer, and the bartender’s like, “You look like you’ve been through a war.” I laugh and say, “You have no idea!”

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